Artemis Word/ΛΟΓΌΣ ΑΡΤΕΜΙΣ

2017-013 - Chile

POETRY/ ΠΟΙΗΣΗ

Amber Beads

 An Anglo-Saxon’s View of Their Unearthed Graves

Inspired by Giles’ photo

Sere and yellow,

Rough and round,

Glowing pebbles in a mound,

Pitted and mellow,

Winding our necks round,

We wore them.

 

Amber beads unearthed from clay,

Fashioned by my artist love,

Glowing yellow, filled with day,

Captures sunbeams from above.

I still love them.

 

Some say gods have made these,

To ensnare the light of Sun,

But we women saved these,

In memory & hope of sons,

We keep them.

 

Rich & smooth as butter,

We turned them in our hands.

The bone beads scraped with madder,

The amber just with sand.

 

Those of shadowy carnelian

Embedded like a shield,

We treasure as we fear them,

Like wounds on battlefields.

 

The others soaked with brownish earth,

Or trod in ochred clay,

Show us fields where our sons died first,

And anoint them with the way.

 

So, when we are dead, take not from us,

These rounded, golden suns,

But bury them with sword and severed buss,

To revere the slaughtered ones,

Who never returned to us.

– 2011

(Please excuse the simplicity; I’m still figuring out how to make this site work!)