The Reluctant Soldier: XXVI
Posted May 13th, 2017 by Gracithe1andonly
in wardly searching
Did people use to dance here, little friend? Oh!
Did wanton laughter use to ring? Yes, but now
There is silence, silence except for mirthless,
Bitter peals from me.
There was once an honest artist, a Caddan,
Who destroyed a lyre. It told a lie,
Thus its name- I know little of Caddae, but
I know he loves truth.
I am not given to loud noises, being
The youngest of a very busy household.
I preferred to watch and wait and squirrel away
The things that scared me.
Sometimes I think someone else is using me,
Walking with my legs, talking with my voice, and
All in all, I feel quite appropriated.
But no. I am me.
I understand the River Songs at long last,
The communal humming after flood-staunch,
Deep and comforting noises sending riled
Souls off to slumber.
I used to think, on occasion, of leaving,
Deserting, but that would bring worse dishonor
Than being discovered for just what I am;
A lying lyrist.
Leaving would do no more good than staying, and
More evil to those whom I love. And who knows?
Perhaps my staying shall grant a small chance that
I will change something.
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