Session 59 - The Reckoning of Kaeldaan

Where is the sunset that I asked for?

O I have seen a myriad sunsets, each different
With their colors draped over the fields
In glowing hues that shimmer and sing
But not the sunset I have longed to see

Pressure from the south drives
Briney rain and fresh sea air and
Clouds grasping northward, clawing
Away the sky every solstice

There is no sun on the morning the city
Was designed to see. There is no glint
Of star Hemeel in the night beneath
The thunder, heavy and warm overhead

And in the fading light of the last day of Kaeldaan
I do not blame the rain.


Where are my children?

O I have many children, some old some young
With their colors draped across their shoulder blades
And spears in hand and baskets of food
Apples in springtime for cider, barley in the fall.

Pressure from the north drives
Desperate footfalls southward and
Tiny hands grasping for mothers, clawing
For their home as they cry and plead at the gates

There are no children on the morning the city
Was designed to rear. There is no hopeful laugh
As my son brings a stray dog home and
No more hearth, heavy and warm within

And in the lost laughter of the last day of Kaeldaan
I do not blame the children.




Where is my immaculate city?

O I have walked her myriad streets, her colors
Draped across marquees and hanging from
Shop windows. But I do not find my city
On any map any longer. She is here but not.

Pressure on the edge of the forest
(there was a forest here before? It is here but not)
Drives hungry men with spears and
Empty carts where food once was.

There is no city on the morning there was
Supposed to be a city. Supposed to be a red
Brick wall and white smoke, the smell of lavender
The morning after the solstice.

And in the silence of the empty city, the city that is not
I do not blame the hungry men.