The Morrigan
copyright 2003 Mary Bertke
You ask me why I haunt men as they march off to war
and when the battle's done then in I fly
To the anguish of their widows and the sorrow of their friends
and my answer to you, sir, is: I try.
Refrain:
I try to stop the marching men, yet off to war they go.
I try to wash the portent-blood away, yet it stays.
I send my crows to eat the dead to stop the spread of plague
but it comes, no matter how I try.
When I was just a school girl I knew not who I was,
all memories of past lives locked away
'til my raven caught up with me as I walked to an exam
and the dreams came to me as I lay that night.
Still did I deny the grim knowledge that I found:
In faces, death approaching I could see.
My uncle and my granny, I would see no more alive
I knew even as I left them safe at home.
I walk through life with mourning; I mingle with despair.
I wince from looking closely at each face.
My gaze can make no difference on if they live or if they die -
Despite
futility, still I must try.