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~ By Courtesy of Others ~
After The Ashen Spear
My time is done, I know I’ll not Ever see my land again, And my flesh shall surely rot In this Wod forsaken spot Where battle dead are left, forgot.
Those not yet born shall walk around And see these hills where battle raged They shall not ween that underground Lie heads that once with awe-helm crowned Now lay unknown, unnamed, unfound.
Yet, bone on bone in scrambled heap We lie in masses here and there Skulls on kinsmen’s skulls we sleep Ribs enmeshed we ever keep Our frithful friendships in the deep.
© Juleigh Howard-Hobson
Sommer & Other Poems by Juleigh Howard-Hobson. Image: © John Howe, www.john-howe.com, used by permission. |