Poetry: "The Guardians" by Guy Gavriel Kay
The last excerpt I'll be posting from Beyond This Dark House, review soon forthcoming. [p.p.102-103]
The Guardians
Perhaps her hair
will fall again from a balcony,
and she will pierce my heart
with the sharp points of her
tears, to keep me there.
--Pablo Neruda
At every entrance
to the forest
there are towers.
Women wait
at the top of stairwells
that spiral like their hearts.
Some are chained.
Some would have him
believe so.
All are lovely enough
to occlude the image
of the white hart's
wild running in the wood.
Their hair will
loosen
and with movements
of the sea
remind him of how hard
the way is that winds
to the one glade that matters.
'Oh, rescue me!'
they will cry
as he rides past,
and some will be trying
to save him. Truly.
One or another
is likely to succeed.
The hart is unlikely to care,
not even knowing
the stalk had begun.
The Guardians
Perhaps her hair
will fall again from a balcony,
and she will pierce my heart
with the sharp points of her
tears, to keep me there.
--Pablo Neruda
At every entrance
to the forest
there are towers.
Women wait
at the top of stairwells
that spiral like their hearts.
Some are chained.
Some would have him
believe so.
All are lovely enough
to occlude the image
of the white hart's
wild running in the wood.
Their hair will
loosen
and with movements
of the sea
remind him of how hard
the way is that winds
to the one glade that matters.
'Oh, rescue me!'
they will cry
as he rides past,
and some will be trying
to save him. Truly.
One or another
is likely to succeed.
The hart is unlikely to care,
not even knowing
the stalk had begun.