Sunday, April 5, 2015

Happy Easter!

So, the important part first right? It is Easter and I am glad. Our family gathered itself together and went to Easter Vigil. It is about four hours round trip for us to attend, and the service itself is very long, the the liturgy is so beautiful, and though I am rather sleep-deprived and shaky this morning. I am most thankful for Easter. I feel the way one feels when the eagle sings at the end of the Return of the King:

Sing now, ye people of the Tower of Anor,
for the Realm of Sauron is ended for ever,
and the Dark Tower is thrown down.

Sing and rejoice, ye people of the Tower of guard,
for your watch hath not been in vain,
and the Black Gate is broken,
and your King hath passed through,
and he is victorious.

Sing and be glad, all ye children of the West,
for your King shall come again,
and he shall dwell amoung you
all the days of your life.

And the Tree that was withered shall be renewed,
and he shall plant it in the high places,
and the City shall be blessed.

Sing all ye people!

Or, if you are watching the movie, the way one feels when Aragorn starts to sing:

I hope the joy of Easter comes abundantly on all of you as well!

And now, to lesser matters: I did actually manage a poem yesterday, but between a full day's work, and having to leave for Easter Vigil by about 8 o'clock, I did not have a chance to post it, so I am doing that now. The prompt was "departure" and I was quite pleased that the prompt was something nice and workable.... And then, to my dismay, Robert Louis Stevenson's "Requiem" popped into my head:

UNDER the wide and starry sky   
  Dig the grave and let me lie:   
Glad did I live and gladly die,   
  And I laid me down with a will.   
This be the verse you 'grave for me: 
  Here he lies where he long'd to be;   
Home is the sailor, home from the sea,   
  And the hunter home from the hill.

which is a fine, brave, beautiful poem, and one of my favourite pieces of verse. Unfortunately, it is quite difficult to think of poetry of your own, when that keeps going round and a round your head all day, which it did. 

But I stuck to it, and by dint or several pages of painful scraping and sheer orneriness, I managed to write this:


She went from them at dawn of day
The little farm and fields she loved,
The ewes and lambs she used to tend -
She left them there, and went away.

The chapel where she used to pray,
The river bank and fairy tree,
She left her mother, unaware,
Her father cutting hay.

There were words she could not say,
A charge she could not tell -
Kissed them both and left them there,
Though heartily longed to stay.

But duty will not bide delay,
When God and country call.
The Maiden like a flaming sword,
To war, then, walked away.

The winter sky was cold and grey,
They watched her march from home,
With flame-red dress and flickering hair
Against the coming day.

My prompt for today, now is .... drum roll.... 'vegetable'.... God help us.

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