from & born

in the land of mists

threaded by salt bogs

half hidden cow farmsteads

I headed west

at my coming of age

holding of short sword

rejecting bovine life

wanting the ways of the bard

finding the deceangli

& the loving of a maiden

whom I could not marry

they not knowing my lines

lineage or elders days

instead the druids luming told

find the midway of the sun

so south I wended

to live among the durotriges

learning late the wiles of their women

by entrapment of blood

false gods in fakery

there my days to be done

but first the dorunni & wars

there to be held

long against my will

until londinium paid my way

back to Vectis view

to speak now of rivers

instead of places your feet wend

may be for you

to misunderstand my travels

these ways were ours

of wind & paddle bank to bank

t’was only when the foreigners came

our lands bore the yoke

of stone to break meadow backs

for legions to race & kill our numbers

enslaving children to be sold

in darker places beyond Frankish shores

the iceni fought & died against this

& our kings sundered

speak no more since

of fire & blood

while I wait midway of the sun

hoping the druids spoke true

of my fine end here amongst the tribe

half beached on the southern sea

waiting for the wraiths to come

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