Marked by strangeness
At an early age
this slip of a girl
who,
when offered choice
Would put hot pepper
on her tongue
And jump into a
freezing lake
Rather than eat sweet
apples
At her father’s fire
and hearth,
Prospered
And grew tall like the
reeds
Marking edges
Of treacherous
peatbogs.
This child ,marked
thus by all, yet loved,
would run to the deep
woods,
As does a mink to
ducklings,
with barracuda smile,
and would stay all
day,
and night if allowed,
though always
forbidden.
When rescued daily,
a term she so
detested,
She would be found
Ensconced up trees
in their forked
crooks,
Ash, rowan or thorn
her favourites
Shouting to her
spurned deliverers below
“The moss is damp
tonight
So guard your crops
‘gainst rain.”
And this child would
be right again.
She saw adult dreams
In flocks of starlings
And, shocked by these
unveilings,
Whispered this unknown
darkness to her pillow
The stallions and
bulls
In steamy byres and
barns
Echoed these unknown
oddities
And she put these
intrusions by
But they lingered on
In crevasse and
crevice
Waiting.
And all the time her
skin stayed white
And all the while dark
threads were spun
And all the time she
looked for dark
And all the time lived
in the sun
One year, aged twelve
and three quarters
In deep winter
Being helpful, as she
thought fit
She went and found
A flock of sheep
Snowbound, buried and
lost to all.
Fur wrapped and
ragamuffin
She floundered waist
deep
Till nearly dead
Through exhaustion and
drifted snow
To bring, as she
thought,
This mundane news
Told her tidings
Collapsed
Three days asleep,
comatose, near death
Then up as again
As bright and sharp as
an icicle.
Wonder at this child
soon spread
And all the while long
threads were spun
And of this child were
stories made
Between the darkness
and bright sun
Aged thirteen,
Puberty
A mother’s talk
Well, several mothers
and an aunt,
And a generous bag of
several ancestor’s bones,
Crackling faintly when
carried in
Deerhide cushioning
ancient dust,
Warned of bleeding
All the rest.
Food for thought
A feast for the body
A spark to revelation
Starlings spun their
patterns
Cubs spawned
A thousand salmon
spawned in an instant
Elvers, leverets,
ermine kits
Were conceived
Lived lives
And fell to dust
All in an instant in
her mind
Bulls and stallions
De-mystified around
her
And fire first
crackled between her fingers tips
At this unexpected
reaction
Her pack of helpful
women
Panicked and fled
Leaving her
Smouldering ,deserted
But ,surprisingly, not
downhearted
And all the time her
skin stayed white
And all the while dark
threads were spun
And all the time she
looked for dark
And all the time lived
in the sun
Some wise villager
As in wise as in wisdom
Not wise (poor useage)
As in possessing power
Offered a solution
This wildling child could live
On wood’s edge
And guard the flocks
At night.
By day
Human kind could guard her
And all the time her skin stayed white
The seeds of her wild power begun
As the woods gave her their dark
Some wilder threads were also spun
But in the darkness of her room
These wild threads escaped the loom.
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