Monday, February 14, 2011

Singing Boys

They begged the boy
for one more song.
Just one more song they cried.

So, the boy sang.

He sang till he wept.
He sang till they all wept.
He sang till the walls wept
   and the gutters and the branches.

When the darkness came
and the cold winds
only the boy was light.

Honey and egg yolk colored flames
drew the only shadows
that differed from the darkness
   that fell around the town.

We watched as he burned,
delighted with the flames
glinting on our lowered blades.

We all watched
the beautiful boy burn
as he sang.

We wept. We laughed.
We sank our legs
in the warm ashes,
   cold winds blowing
   high above our heads.

Soon enough
it would be winter.

Soon enough
there would be no more songs.

(from runic inscriptions in Schiedam)

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