The Entwives



Long ages before
your foundation stones
had learned to groan
beneath the weight
of your words and your
world;

Before the sadness
of what we have seen,
Before the bright green moss
grew once more after
long, lonely winter’s sleep;

And the eagles’ haunting cry was
new across a flame-tipped
sundown sky;

When as yet no diadem
nor sparkling gem was worn,
Nor oath of fealty sworn
And no sword brandished high
had pierced the air or flesh from bone

--since then we walk alone.


And if by grace of One
our wives you see,
pray remember us.

Take pity,
Take pity.


- © 2004 Sharon L. Shannon