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Poetic Platypus: Fragments

In later years, did Bedwyr unclose his heart unto an aged brother as 'neath a smoking yew tree the twain reclined in the hour before the Vesper Bell would ring. And that good brother made record of all he learned that bards in after-years wrought into song and story. But one tale did he by word impart unto the father of Aenerin, whose son sang it thus when the the fires were lit in the high halls of Din Eiden, that Saxon fires made a name, and nothing more.


 I


There was in Gwynedd Vivian, enchantress.

Born in battle was she-

Blood born-

In the sword-storm, in the raven’s feast

Bold- she came to Arthur’s high hall.

Spell-weaver, she joined with Medraud,

King’s bane, unweaver, unnamer.

Bold will I make to tell the tale.

Bold will I make before the court.

Bold will I make before the fire.

Bold will I make to sing the song.


When in time Vivian went wandering

Down hidden paths

Seeking secret knowledge, Merlin-masteries,

She came, for her steps led her,

Unto that tree-fast-prison.


Wind.  Leaves rustle in the green,

In the gloaming,

In the house of living things.

There she finds the ancient glade

And the riven hoary oak:

The tree-fast-prison.


Waiving hands- the winding words

Echo down the fairy’s path.

The earth quakes beneath her spell

And unbolts the tree-fast-prison.


Old man, name-stripped, upon

The humble moss he lies.

There she, name thief, recalls him

From deep slumber:

I call you by the waving hands.

I call you by the winding words.

I bid you by the spell you heard.

-Awake!


Waking from deep waters he,

Name-stripped,

Thrice curses the unnamer:

For the three words spoken.

For the three trusts broken.

For the three kings fallen.

I hear! –lightning cracking- old man!

-thunder quaking-

Master am I now before thee.

Name-stripped, eyes hiding,

There he hails her master who

Once worshiped him as lord,

And tells her all the paths of secret power.

There she, red-white-hand, slays

The old stone binder and departs

The tree-fast-prison.


II


On the world’s edge dwelt the ancient one,

Goddmarru.

Before man walked had he, 

Flesh-bound-spirit,

Sung in heaven’s choir.

Before the sundering of Cain Kinslayer

Had he born God’s curse.

Chained in form of flesh and iron,

The fire of his spirit burned,

Star-fire-fallen.

In serpent form was he:

The father of great beasts,

The father of great sins,

The father of great knowledge.


So Vivian came by secret ways

To the broken world’s edge.

There hails him by his hidden name

And sends the echoes breaking:

I call thee by the waiving hands,

I call thee by the winding words,

I bind thee by the spell thou heard.

Then spoke Goddmarru,

For the spell constrained him,

And his voice was the breaking of iron:

Lo!  Six things I have seen,

Seven I will unfold to thee:

The name of the fox in his hole,

The name of the bird on the wing,

The name of the salmon in his river,

The name of the darkness beneath a stone,

The name of the child in the womb,

The name of the man in his tomb,

The name of the star that has fallen.


Goddmarru, iron serpent, fixes ancient

Eyes on her.

And she, spell-binder, meets

Star-fallen-gaze, will-clashing.

An age of the world they stand still,

Soul-straining,

Until she breaks his gaze and

With it all his power.

Then he, eyes-falling, turns

Thorny head away.


III


On the cliffs above the sea

Where Tintagel’s bones

Break through the earth,

There lived Bedwyr-

In bitterness left living.

Who was the first of Arthur’s Knights:

The first his lord to love,

The last his lord to prove,

The last his lord to move.


So lived Bedwyr,

Dwelling on past sins,

And finding new forgiveness

Lives new life as a holy man.


In the autumn of the year,

When the world Phoenix-fired burns,

Down the length of Cornwall’s corpse

There road Vivian-

All in white with holly in her hand:

To call the unmaking done,

To call the power of the sun,

To call her battle won.


Vivian called him by

The winding words

But pound of serf took all their power,

And broke their echoes on

The rocks and thousand wrecks

Beneath the ramparts.


She sought to bind him by 

The waiving hands,

But sign he made to counter 

Hers and in the cold her

Knuckles cracked and sought

The comfort of her robe.


Then spoke Bedwyr,

For his love constrained him,

And his voice was the pounding

Of the sea:

I call thee by the immortal word,

I bind thee by the pierce’ed hands,

I cast thy power upon the sands.

-She falls!

And before him serpent-lies,

Feeding on hell-serpent’s food,

Hell-power-broken.


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