III

three white feet came and carried with them cold for all the nights I will hold laid to rest with ash and pollen left to drift in years of autumn As I laid the stones upon him dreaming of a fate befallen these beating wings collecting what is owed and soon my debtor he will know these hands they ache to tear your flesh from bone and drag you westward bound in rope this moment filled my mind stretched over miles of stone and sand I must take a life hooves leave the mark of my demand the comfort I will find blood bathing miles of stone and sand I must take a life hooves leave the mark of my demand the mourning will be brighter when you’ve left this face that you see it will be the last this moment filled my mind walking dawn and day three white feet that carried him cut that path that I must take his screams will fill the fields and dance across the planes three white feet that carried him carry me away the mourning will be brighter when you’ve left this face that you see it will be the last the mourning will be brighter when you’ve left

brought forth with violence swords came and hung him from our gate hidden in silence head cloaked with sisters I did wait my time I bided through seas of ink and dust I wade my new dominion grew with the turn of every page the thieving of my life the fury I will find my hand was bartered for lands my body a gift to trade misery held me till at my breast these quiet babes red stag and gray hare great ax and towering liths of stone his body made still his scabbard taken for my own the thieving of my life the fury I will find in yew and alder in ash and holly we did roam black earth and green leaf this day my chapel still stands strong

green eyed what’s betided here we heard you crying out weeping wailing wrists worn red has someone held you down and I can hear the changing sound sister be still while we’re here no one can hurt you now we have searched till you were found in the temple nearly drowned grey eyed angered by your shape misplaced you were devout serpents sprouting as your form lay tangled on the ground and I can hear the changing sound sister you may fret and fear but we are with you now all the waves that held you down in the temple nearly drowned throw my beauty to the gorgon scale my skin and twist my organs oceans came to dark my door and salt my sister in the temple floor now you send this child to take her sword and shield meant to erase her loathing left us cold and ageless a fate to share with those who gaze us stone eyed all that’s left of you the sight who sought you out weeping wailing even ears of stone will hear us now and I can hear the changing sound

we trekked these lands far flung cross misty isles and moors your withered hands pawed at my flesh till I am soar I must be rid of you if it’s the last thing I do in yew and alder in ash and holly we did roam red stag and gray hare bending the will of earth and stone and I must be rid of you if it’s the last thing I do as soon as you teach me to I must be rid of you

all the fields in this green county lost lambs you herded home all the men who thought them fiercest chipped teeth and broken bones all the suitors came to call me heavy purse and hands of stone all their lives in search of scepters all of mine in search of home I’ve been wasting my life behind these towers tall I’ve been wasting my time within these masons’ walls I’ve been suffering while they’ve been singing our songs all the days I thought my darkest tear stained in mourning clothes gilded cage of silk and linen thought I knew the deepest throes daughters pay the debts of fathers blood worth its weight in gold grimes will never see me sovereign steel bars and walls of stone I’ve been wasting my life behind these towers tall I’ve been wasting my time within these masons’ walls I’ve been suffering while they’ve been singing our songs those songs they sang for who were they those songs they sang

great halls and stone walls a colder life is hard to recall I was keen for forests green and living on the deer of kings a yeoman’s fields to tend and till if only they could leave us free men who seek the frail and weak only find their deepest sleep I have heard the bugle blow I have seen the hangman’s rope I have felt my spirit grow I have seen so many things a Norman girl could only dream steel that gleams and a bowman’s string carried me from sea to sea the pious fools the wealthy the cruel never will they find their peace the yew still grows to cut our bows so much to learn in letting go I have heard the bugle blow I have seen the gallows pole I have felt my spirit grow

a pail carried from the well turning with the ides gifted to the boughs and branches lone every joyful dawn every drowning morn blooming in the warm buried in the storm speaking soft and low say it to me slow there’s only so much time a mind can hold woven from the old drifting through the fold maiden mother crone you knit me thread spun and running red metered in the dark swaying with wax and wane of time every quiet dusk every blade to rust fading of the light drifting into night speaking soft and low say it to me slow there’s only so much time a mind can hold woven from the old stretched across the fold maiden mother crone you knit us all woven from the old heavy as the stone the water from the well is clear and cold drifting through the fold heavy as the stone there’s only so much life a thread can hold