The Innominate in Thirteens: Part 2, The Shaman’s Sentries

And left at dawn in guilt and pain,
Of all that had been heard,
Patrick’s ousting of the wyverns,
And the enfields’ grounds disturbed.

The fading of the fae forts,
And such loss of leprechaun.
The horrors that were told, the last knight,
Of all things gone so wrong.

All the selkies swam away, 
Or refused to shed their coats.
While merrows chose a life in depths,
Those uncharted by the boats.

What boiled and bristled the broonie,
To withdraw from all our homes,
Wasn’t caused by left out clothing,
Nor the missing creamer bowl.

With the absence of the clúrachán
Came the spoiling of the spirits. 
And the dryads forged so far away,
To places none dare visit. 

The malfunctioning of the magic,
The collapsing of the charms,
That had started the extinction,
And the industry of harm.

The chronicles still scribbled down,
What do they mean today?
If all the wonders in the world,
Have simply flown away.

But soared with sight, at such a height 
Two ravens watched their ward,
Which they’d surveilled for many years
Bringing whispers to their lord.

They had heard the Story Holder,
Well aware of its strange spell,
And knew this time was coming,
They had waited for the tell.

For one, was Thought and Fortune,
In Memory, the other, Desire and Luck.
They were sentries waiting patiently,
For their charge to get unstuck.

Thought flew, to go and whisper,
Desire stayed to spy from far,
There would always be one watching,
The child must always have a guard.

But in sundering, there’s a danger,
And one prophetic that comes to pass.
The Royal book murmurs of this moment,
A raven vulnerable at last!

And left at dawn, and left for good
The hero’s heartache to explore,
To find if all of natures’ magic,
Is lost to Nevermore.

This poem may also be found in The Artery Winter 2022