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!
but I could not.
For I am
blue eyes whose colour
mimics nature in my jewellery
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.