Treasure Island

Phil Charters

(11/05/1958 / Australia)

The Brother Of My Soul


eucalypts,
that once stood the night
sentinels to my sleeping swag
where the fire burned for friends
warmed against sub zero,
have uprooted, fled
and the forest choir that
sang my awakening, silenced
sings no more
only the raven flies, caws,
and casts its shadow long
across my life
the sun no longer warms nor
lights my way through days
darkness engirds my soul
the raven lands
morrigan launders, where
once friends in a trilogy
gave praise for their lives entwined
only the forest privy to the sacrament
of friendship
the land is bare
and the blood of the chosen
stains the ground
morrigan launders his clothes
the brother of my soul
while he sits his rock, a man among men
yet sees me no more
hears me no more
I see him, I hear him, always
the brother of my soul
alive in the raven,
in the strengh of the rock
I lean on him
in these my darkest days
alive in the symbols he chose,
alive in my heart,
forever,
the brother of my soul.

Submitted: Thursday, April 23, 2009
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