Poetry of the Tides

The Maid, The Nun, and the Boy

The whimper that slowly escapes without another sound,

Damage done and no taking it back.

Drip the red no more upon the white snow,

It is not to say was pure before,

For there have always been stains on the innocent.

Scar upon the ankle,

Beaten on the back,

Blue on the wrists,

And eyes made blind.

Somewhere lies the horse trampled from savage force.

Rotten memories swell and decay scatter the pine air.

Never did the maid make it to the castle.

Never did the good knight come.

Never came anyone to stop the shadow.

Embrace the cold to its new foundling.

No spring shall taint it.

No summer will warm it.

No fall to enchant it.

Forever the snow keeps its foundling never to return it.

The maid had sought enlightenment.

She wanted to break a spell.

Where stand we now before the fallen?

Best no one else knows but the animals, who do not talk,

The snow, who will keep her, and I.

You need not worry about what happened here.

The damage is done, boy.

The damage is done.

I, the good mistress of this temple, will help you be eased.

Into the tempest of hate you will be flung not.

No instead, boy, you will vanish just like that.

The maid will not be missed.

You will not be missed.

I can take her place.

As you, boy, the damage is done.

No one will blame you.

Give onto me that there staff you used.

Give onto me your false face and name.

Give onto me all you value.

I, the good mistress of this temple, will walk the walk.

I will talk the talk.

I will be the maid.

Mad they will call me.

True.

Mad, indeed, is what I must be put through.

I will get that maid back to life, one way or the other.

I will build her back, even if she comes back as another.

But, boy, you vanish in secret.

No one will ever know.

Sins are sins.

Boys are boys.

But you are the boy who meant no ill.

For you, boy, are but a shadow,

A ghost,

A whisper on the wind.

I know this.

So I take you whole as I took her.

For the damage is done and you must pay.