‘MID MOSS-COVERED BOULDERS
Michael Dyer
© 2006

Her time, of lonely worry.
With rumors, of battles gone bad.
No sign, of his shining sword, and her fury,
against all war.

So many warriors lost. 
She hopes he’s not paid the cost.
That his stallion is still strong. 
Casting shadows so long.
And that her love still belongs,
to the living.

‘Mid the moss-covered boulders,
she gazes, for her distant soldier.
Bid, by the winds blowing north,
to watch for the course,
of her beloved.

A perilous journey. She hopes he’s almost free.
What is that, that she now sees?
An approaching gallop,
and the dust that’s stirred up,
astride his stallion.

Clouds, gray on the dark,
blue, as their counterpart, dividing.

The Earth, once covered in blood,
now shed in the birth,
of his dismounting.

And now, the time has come,
And now, the holy deed is done.
And now, the wounded one but wants
His love to hold.
The child-man of old,
is with his other.