Eros of the North

An ancient memory.

 

The hands that played the whale-jaw harp

and hung that harp upon the Long-house wall

touched the cheek

of this slave from some Mediterranean shore….

I, who heard the cries ….

‘….the golden-haired intruders are here!

Run! run!’

but I could not.

For I am

mesmerised by

blue eyes whose colour

mimics nature in my jewellery

lapis, turquoise….

set in silver

adorning my wrists and neck

where later, entwined upon a bed of furs

your lips were to press

evidence of your passion….

I stood and gazed

heart pierced by an unseen arrow …

 

You have found me again

and enslaved me

a willing slave, hands held out for chains

following with eager footsteps, for I remember the rewards….

kiss the hands that play the harp

and wield the sword

and bedeck me with amber.

 

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