The Story In Verse, Part 2: THE KNOWLEDGE
My grandfather taught me the way of the runes,
The symbols on stones that he tossed in the bowls,
The clearest of pebbles like seven full moons;
Consulting each morning those Seven Old Souls
To help him determine his two daily goals.
One day was repairs and a rabbit for meat,
The next was a blade to be sharpened and shined,
And a poultice of melon to rub on his feet.
Each day had a name and a number combined
To write in the book and to keep in the mind.
My grandfather died on the day I turned ten,
The hair on his head just as white as a moth.
I burned his remains in the desolate fen.
I sprinkled his dust in the Cup full of broth,
Took only one sip; poured the rest on the Cloth.
I followed the Knowledge the best that I could,
And lived in the dunes for another ten years.
But then in my dreaming I saw the deep wood,
The forest that harbored my ominous fears,
That grew by the sea of my sorrowful tears.
“Come down to the ocean and flourish your sail.”
The song of the bird in my dreaming beseeched.
I’d not seen the ocean except in a pail
Drawn up from the depths of the well’s easy reach.
The ocean for me was a figure of speech.
But just like I know when I’m thirsty for drink,
I knew that this bird was from someone above—
A spirit beyond my endowment to think;
And the forested seacoast I kept dreaming of,
A promise of something I knew must be love.
D. Edgar Lamp