Yearloss Poem by Keith Shorrocks Johnson

In the deep days, death was a bountiful land
Of meadows and pastures and fat cattle
Of evergreen plains, brooks and willow stands
Of wildfowl, teeming fish, and game aplenty

Its waters were not below nor the land above
For both were of one substance in form and flow
With rain and mist and ebb and flood and tide
Inherent, translucent, awash and without surface

And the souls that journeyed there were adrift -
Always seeking out landings within and beneath,
Ever driven to coming at last to the water margins
To finding safety under open skies with fast footholds.


Then fearful of firm standing and curious of its nature
Its inconstant ruler stole a child from the over-world
With this boy being the tenth son of his adversary
Who ruled the heavens with severances of lightening

But growing in love and awe of the watery dominions
Though grieving for the bright sun and pitch-black night
The child became a young warrior torn in understanding
Between what was ever-shifting and what was ever-fixed

Troubled, he found his way to the edge of the underworld
Breaking back once more into the distinct firmament
In rainbow iridescence, casting wide his cape of green
That rising mists and falling rain might nourish nature.


At which time and place became both separate and apart
Surfacing - and the seasons were set in motion and sequence,
With the great world turning, wrapping itself in his cloak
In the winter and setting it aside in the warmth of summer

But come the half-year's end, the youth was set lose his life
To reconcile the obligations that each court demanded
Returning the ransom and paying homage to his sky-father
To be reunited with his guardian to enjoy death's plenty

And each year mankind marked the journey from the deep realm
Rejoicing in the glory of the summer solstice and its champion
But with the autumn darkness came unease as the sun wavered
And the twice-lost son was drawn again to what was concealed.