This is a rewrite of an earlier poem I wrote for Wound. I’m fairly happy with the pattern I developed. I finished this version last night while working on that story and thought I’d put it up for criticism.
Weeping, the woman of Fungan
Came to the river of the White Serpent.
He appeared to her there from the river,
Upon his breast five opals.
I rested on the moon’s breast
In the day of a thousand white horses.
Fortresses of sardstone a thousand
I built in the ages before cold morning.
I have walked with the wind across ages,
And the secrets of the deep the dragons taught me.
I can grant thee the wisdom of the deep,
Ancient beyond man’s reckoning.
I can grant thee the wealth of the beyond,
The holds of the stars in the dark heaven.
I enthroned myself with the stars;
The chief of the gods is the White Serpent.
The honey-eyed deer like gods
Went over the waters and the pale meadwort.
Said the woman of Fungan, Dark waters
Lie twixt me and the Dim Briarwood.
Canst thou restore unto me
A soul that has journeyed to the black hollows?
Alas, even I fear to journey,
O woman of Fungan, to the Dim Briarwood.