On The Morning After

From the Serzho/Piet universe.
Sonel to Serzho, On The Morning After:

Serzho - still here,
As grayness lightens, as the metal tang
Freshens the airways of this metal world
That I live in and through. Shipmorning, and...
Shipmorning, and...shipmorningand.... I must accept
A froth of curls half-hidden in the sheets
And a bare arm that's wrapped around my waist.
Now you have put your honor in my hands.
What a pompous ass I am! No, Serzho, I
Know you don't think of honor here in bed,
And I suppose I'll never understand
How you can give your body like fresh bread
To feed the hungry with such casual grace.
I'm clumsy with responsibility -
So awkward - and my being is a sword:
Bright metal weapon with a cutting edge
(Bright metal weaponship, bright weaponself),
Sterile defence, cold magic of Cold Iron.
Yours is another magick, faeriechilde:
The fecund, inward darkness of the sea,
The changing color of your changing eyes.
Sea is the Source; out of the sea, all life;
And I have seen the sea, on Alderaan.
It holds all undiscovered mysteries,
Indefinite wonders, and your paradox
Of knowing innocence, for all things flow
Down to the sea at last, and are lost there.
Sea judges nothing, but receives all things
And purifies them in its boundless Yes.
Ah, gods - I want you so to take me in.
Steady, Sonel.
What can we be, then - you
As healing-elemental as the sea,
And I, a sword out of the fire cold-quenched,
Forged hard for killing. You and I both know
A sword will crumble in the warm salt waves.
Sea deeps are dangerous...are dangerous....

 

 

by Karen Winter

 

Winter's Tales