Gwyn’s Death and Departure

You say you come from many battles and many deaths.
I try not to hold on or shed tears on the edge
of summer.

You’ve been doing this for many years.
I’m the fearful one.

After death you staunch your wounds,
draw your blood back
into itself

before your hounds come forever guides into the mists
with your horse who carries the dead.

You’ve never been more yourself.

You remind me of the November
we touched the moon and tell me not to mourn.

You are long-lived and my summers are limited:
hours to be savoured as a bee
drinks nectar from
a gold cup.

I cast off my grief
for my gown is not yet a shroud.

On the motorway bridge
where the railings sing like hummingbirds in the gale

I am alive yet your hunt is never far off.

4 thoughts on “Gwyn’s Death and Departure

  1. Brian Taylor says:

    Well, for the sake of the willow warblers and house martins, not to mention the toads, most of whom haven’t stirred from their holes yet round here, I reckon its about time he departed!! Nothing personal of course. I love Winter too. According to the weather forecast we’re finally going to get some warm evenings again from tomorrow, so we’ve got buckets at the ready. 🙂

  2. adruidway says:

    A dialog of mortal and immortal. I love “you’ve never been more yourself” and “I cast off my grief/for my gown is not yet a shroud” and “the railings sing like hummingbirds in the gale.” Unexpected pleasures. There’s a wary intimacy between these two, speaker and Gwyn.

  3. crychydd says:

    The blend of elegy and celebration, of the finite and the infinite, is delicately handled here. But the sense of a life lived NOW in the shadow of passing also conjures an otherworldly atmosphere which is both engaging and not a little unsettling.

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