THE LAND OF THE BANSHEE
by Modar Neznanich
As the kenning sound of the banshee
faded into the distance,
and the hearts of the survivors
began beating once again,
the crowing of the cock
could be heard upon the rooftops.
Morning has arrived at last
and has brought an end
to another night's horror
for those who must reside
upon the misty isle of ire
for all of their lives.
Lives that are much shortened
by the shadows of might,
yet strengthened by the vision
of wonderence wrought by day
that fills the soul with peace
and the body with vigor and strength.
The dawn shimmers into being
over an emerald land of enchantment
that fills the eyes with splendor
and whose very breeze is an elixir of ease
that wipes away the fear that resides within
but not the memories of what has occurred
upon the eve last, and the ones before it.
Forever doomed to suffer the ravages
of the lingering banshee wrought of themselves
from a heated temper and a wrong unforgiven
by ones who no longer suffer the pains of life
and no longer care who was wrong or right
but they are not forgotten by those who follow after.
Dreaming only of being right and roving it
they force themselves and the ones they love
to suffer through wrong that is worse
than the one they try to avenge
bringing an endless tide against themselves
and calling the banshee forth.
And as the sun sets upon a land of mystery
and the shadows begin to lengthen
the inhabitants fearfully seek shelter
in their homes and ward their portals
against the dreaded banshee
they fear will enter their house.
Pity they don't realize that the banshee
is in their hearts, wanting out.
©1998, 1999, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005,
2006, 2007 Ron Knight/Modar Neznanich
©2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012, 2013, 2014 Ron Knight/Modar Neznanich
Back to Modar's Poetry Page