Monday, March 20, 2017

Shadow Fields - Joshua Gramse


What is it
Out there In the landscape, waters and sky we know 
That after long-shadowed dusk 
When darkness blankets the land 
Becomes alien, unknown

What is it 
Outside the circle of light 
From our hearthfire 
Out in the blackness 
When the new moon doesn't show her face 
And the stars are faint

What makes us bar the door 
Should something brush against it 
Close the shutters To save our minds the shock 
Should something come out of the deep black 
And stare at us through the pane

What makes us gather 
At the heart of home 
Away from cold outer walls 
Faces toward the light 
Our modest blaze 
A homespun sun 
For creatures of the day 
In a house encircled 
By pitch, unyielding shadow

What is it 
That thin cry 
Out there in the night 
The snapping of twigs 
A shuffling in the shadow fields 
A creeping dread In what had been a sunny pasture 
Only hours before

What is it 
Out around us 
In the impenetrable murk 
That sea of the unknown 
Winding round our little pool of light 
So many unseen threats 
We stitch together 
We've always done so 
When we are powerless

It is Composite things 
We stitch together 
The shadow folk, horned and hooved 
The hags under the trees with eyes like cats 
The ebon-boned long-fingered reavers 
Dead-hearted, bloodless 
Grasping out like thin bare trees 
The owl man high in a tree 
With rat in craw, ever watching 
And more and more

Or perhaps it is evil men 
Blade wielders, 
stranglers 
Faceless and bent to cold mayhem 
Or the simple bare-fanged wolf 
Unstoppable devourer 
Etched in ancient memory 
We stitch, we stitch 
And keep them at bay with the circle we cast 
From our hearthfire 
As though light would melt them

And we stitch again 
A luminous net electric Stretch it over the land 
Visible from above the benighted world 
Chasing out shadows Pulling them back like dark curtains 
Bound in a gridwork imposed 
But always black beyond 
Surrounded by true dark

But we've forgotten 
In harrowed aversion 
To the true dark 
A hallowed promise 
From our remote beginning 
Primordial

When night's black wings 
A mother's touch 
Feathers soft and warm 
Shielded us, hid us, helped us 
To rest or wander 
And wonder 
Amid wakeful things nocturnal 
Rising with the moon 
Silvered and blued 
A living world 
Under the blanket of shadow 
As alive as we 
In night's cradle

       ***

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