Oath

I have nothing else to say.

.

No words, to carry on winter wings to divine ears,

no song to give strength to the faltering,

nothing so much as a whisper,

as it has come to this.

.

I have come forward on bended knee,

prostrate in the dust, hanging from my Ash tree,

for more than my nine days,

I have served the nine, times nine,

and beyond.

I have begged, asked humbly, demanded,

threatened, cried and screamed from darkest deep

to blazing dawn!

.

I have done all that one man can do,

no matter how willful, or heroic,

I am empty of voice, tired of waiting

here to see if I was heard.

.

So this is my promise.

.

This joy I am being kept from,

this happiness so close yet held like water

from a desert stranded soul, this dream

of mine, that I would give my life for,

I will have it,

or there will be such a cost.

.

There will be no door, nor god beyond,

no man, myth or beast that will not know

that I have been betrayed. I will rend

the very shape of my heart in the flesh of each

being that I can find, that might have been

responsible.

The machinery of hell shall grind to a shuddering halt,

heaven will burn, scorched of its pale divinity,

angels falling in smoking spirals to make the words

of my oath on the arid plains of my passage.

.

Let me be simply Wolf, happy,

content in my art, in my home, in my heart,

loving and loved.

Let this happen,

or I

will unmake it all.

.

.

.

.

.

Copyright 2011 Cutter Murdoch