Poem 8

Chapter 8: Return


I leap



My prince, no prince

Is back.


Strapped down

A branding iron closing in

In the middle of town square.


Cheers and ruckus loud around

Mage working magic black

Like smoke in rings surrounds them.


Dead – he will die. The mark

Will kill him. His magic is too closely linked

To flesh, to heart, to core.


His magic is a magic of the body – his flesh

Can sing, become a different thing.

From beast to bird to man again.

He’ll die if that thing touches him.


My right palm burns.

My left palm sings –

Lavender light flings

The mage away.

A moment’s breadth – surprise.

Too late.


The brand burns above his heart.

Death is sinking in.

I must chase it away.


Lavender light bleeds

From my palm into the knotted mark.

What else, but hope?

A wish.

A desperate act.


The mage is stirring now.

The crowd cheers.


Wish, hope, sing.

Impossible thing – he lives.

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