"Lost Aconite" by Kathleen Morgaine Haubrich

 Lost Aconite

Amaranth

A golden song is spoken hence, foretelling that which hovers near. For plunder I doth travel here, amidst thy autumn-flowered boughs. A land that thrives in evergreen, and sleeps with the most divine vows.

My warband halts, my eyes do soar, upon this battle starved dance floor. The forest breathes pure unto me; with peace and wonder I can see, the stars did hold a sweet decree, with mists, to pray a psalm to thee.

Stunned and dazed by bounty nigh, the sun had carved a path to sky, of grace which one seldom denied, and spirits near, bore eyes that cry. Thrown aback by scents so sweet, our minds clouded with clear defeat.

My hand succumbs, my blade descends, mine eyes soak awe in pure transcends; thence bitter lips taste honeyed air, and wallow in a trance so fair. Thy ribbons of true treachery were shed and filled with sheer mercy.

Intent of Judas cruel deceit, an Angel wove her path to me, clad in gowns of ashen white, amidst thy heavens lurid light. Her eyes so void of earthly means, a seraph in the great unseen, implored she then with face serene, to still the heat of battle scenes.

Ravished by God’s kingdom kind, my lust for war had faded blind. My body filled with peace and joy, my cunning paths hast crumbled dry, though look I back to warriors, my heart alone is that which soars. Men I see, faceless to sin, drops of sweat surveyed their skin, their blades still dwelled aloft and heft, their thoughts lingered in bloody theft.

Repelled now by barren bloodshed, had woven thence, a simple thread. Coiled round my body, laced, curled by God’s yet boundless grace, I bind thy holy web to all, and query as to who will sprawl, and pray for those whose sins unfurl.