To the Lady of Dun Scaith
by Seawalker
Shadowy one with spear of fire,
Barbed tongue and barbed point,
The way to your castle is hard
And meant to be so.
First we cross the Plain of Ill-Luck,
Where we confront all the failures
That have wrecked up on our shore.
It is easy to stop here, believing as we do
That because we have failed before
We will, of course, fail again.
It is not easy to drag one's feet
Across that dry, choked ground
With no hope of green on the horizon.
Next we cross the Glen of Peril
Where our fears hang like rotting fruit
In the glowering trees. You are a fool,
You are not good enough, says the stink
That wafts around you, the miasma of shame.
If we can keep from falling to the ground
And come at last to the high hill, the slender
Thread ofwood and stone, there is the
Bridge of Leaping. Here She who watches
And her daughter of the toothy grin
Flip boards out from under your feet.
It might as well be called the Bridge of Unfairness,
And this is what you will scream, but no
Quarter is given. It is a lesson:
Once you overcome the enemies within,
The true enemy without becomes clear,
And Unfairness is indeed its name.
By its very nature, it will wound you,
And you must keep trying.
Hold the board. Crawl. Find another way up.
However you do it, know you will bleed,
And that even if you succeed in dropping
Gasping to Her feet, it will only be
Another beginning of pain. Would you know
How to beat the demons, in and out?
Being a hero is granted only by Gods.
Start by showing that you are worthy
And not just meat to be wasted,
To shed your blood uselessly
On the dry and barren earth.
Photo of Dunscaith Castle ruins by John Allen.