War Poet.ca - A CFAP Project by Suzanne Steele

Lazarus (4)

Mæg ic be me sylfum soðgied wrecan,
siþas secgan, hu ic geswincdagum*
~The Seafarer, Anglo-Saxon, 10th c

for grace, for truth, for mercy
with her he lay in bed all day
reading reading the Word Exchange;

the Rockies in February bare
pierced late winter as his warrior breast
was pierced last year by seven deaths;

they had travelled long the heavy road,
had seen the slow left right left,
heard Flowers of the Forest too many times;

the bed linen white, white as the best
shroud, the blankets, chocolate soft,
delicious, Anglo-Saxon words fed them;

Anglo-Saxon riddles, like mother birds, fed them;
they were so tired in the mountains;
still, as they lay, Lazarus, she,

rose and rose.

*I can sing my own true stories/of journeys through this world trans. Mary Jo Salter

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The page you're reading contains a single diary entry entitled Lazarus (4). It was posted here on April 19, 2011.


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