I loved you once in the land where horses run free in hidden valleys and where reeds whistle when the wind blows.
We were young and brave.
I needed your eyes and your smile as much as air and water.
The only thing that made sense was you.
War and sickness, cold and hunger lost their teeth when yours met my skin.
Then, a day without you nearly killed me.
Was it your heart that called me when you found me in the marshes?
Or was it mine begging for mercy that sent birds flying to safety?
Why did I not fly with them?
You built a fire in the hut.
Rain kept hunters and hunted safe that night.
I was cold and hungry.
You shared your crumbs and held me gently.
The forest was kind and winter erased us from the land.
Spring came on the wing of a lark and riding the yellow shoots of the silver birch.
Happiness was your laughter and the blue of your eyes.
I was with child and unafraid.
You were there always.
I followed you with my soul when we were apart some days.
I could feel your love like a shield, keeping me safe.
I feared nothing when you loved me.
Horsemen ripped through the clearing.
They ran me down and killed the child in my belly.
I heard you roar before I saw you charge the men with a bough.
I felt no pain, only sorrow as my legs could not run to you.
I watched them hack you to pieces.
I saw your last breath escape but could not catch it.
I kissed and held you in my soul’s arms as your blood ran like a river towards my hand.
I died clutching your life, holding your love in bloodied fingers as a gentle puffy cloud floated in a clear morning sky, a shade darker than your eyes.
I died weeping.
So, when I saw you in town today at the corner bar, my soul recognized yours.
You smiled at me and your eyes squinted.
You felt it too, didn’t you?
You don’t remember.
But I do, and this time, it is too late.
Flame by followyournose . When you have a chance go and visit this talented artist.
unbuttoned or undone 
Em, this is such a touching story. I read it six times in a row. I was seeing a scene of frontier days and the harshness of trying to settle in the wild country. Then it reminded me of the Balkans during the trouble there and so it became timeless. The beauty of love collides with the darkness. And then the ending, just blew me away. I very much believe in the struggle of souls to reunite.
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Thank you W. I am glad you enjoyed the story born of a look and a smile. The Balkans, yes. Mongol invasion. I don’t know why though… And I have never been there in person although I have seen pictures.
But I have seen the eyes.
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I recognise this 🙂 So very, very good.
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Thank you John. On a multitude of levels.
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Epic
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Thank you my laconic friend.Smiles
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Magnificent.
I am a writer, lost for words.
Poetry.
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Merci. That’s what poets do don’t they? Break you heart with words and shade the truth so it’s not glaring and barely grazes the soul in wonder?
And sometimes the image sticks because in death love becomes perfect and pure, complete and unsullied.
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Stunning piece. Epic, really. So glad to have contributed to the post.
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Thank you Kat. I remembered your picture of the flames when I wrote the line. so you see, it is part of the creation. Thank you my friend.
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Excellent and beautiful poem.
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Thank you so much august one. 😉
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Thanks for sharing this, Emm. 🙂
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You are welcome Paul. Thank you for spending a little time reading it.
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Just had to read this again, Emm. Guess I was in a hurry the first time because I found so much more in it this time. Struggles of the heart are always painful things. And deja vu can be a nasty thing sometimes 🙂
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Time gets away from me Paul….
Deja vu is a strange experience all right. Is it an over-excited imagination that draws a whole story line , a whole moment in a split second or is it something else? If something else, what?… If I have the answer will it go away? will I lose a little bit of wonder? of capacity for mystery and uncertainty?..
I’ll leave it alone, just in case 😉
Thanks for sharing your feelings on this one story. After I wrote it and went back to it, months later, I saw different things behind the images also. Might be the muse playing tricks…
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