My Lady Of The Light

My Lady Of The Light Part 1
By
Ted G. Sheridan

I tied my loyal and spirited steed
to a large branch of a full willow tree
Where he could rest under it's provided shade
beside a clear and refreshing spring filled pond
we both had stumbled upon in our long overdue return
from our fierce and deadly battle of the Lords
far to the North and deep in the province of York
For a fortnight I had drained him of his powerful strength
this my only trustee of my tremendous fear
that the wounds I had suffered would soon claim
their victim in me though I had been a formidable foe
For months I had cheated the Gods of War
As I had fought hand to hand and sword to sword
In our Queen's quest to free our countrymen
And although a servant to her royal highness I had been
I needed to heal my worn out and embattled soul
of all the blood that now was on my hands

I kneeled and with my cupped palms
scooped some water from the pond
giving my tired and resting friend his needed drink
And in his big almond shaped eyes I did notice that
it looked for all the world that he knew
we were both beyond thirst and by twilight tonight
We would thirst no more
It was then that darkness stole my eyes
As I collapsed were I stood next to him
And falling... I would remember nothing more
And falling...

I was still falling when again I awoke
and with seeing the light for the first time in hours
I was blinded from my savior's face
I could only feel the soft touch of a hand
and the warmth against my body so with fever chilled
as I was cradled in the arms of a nurse's care
My eyes now adjusting to that torrid light
caught a short glimpse of long and flowing hair
as it touched and cleaned my bloody face
Exposing my many scars now filled with infection
to the soft gentle healing beauty of that face
The beauty it possessed I would only fail to describe
in any attempt I make to explain such grace
And with the dampened ends of raspberry colored hair
she bathed me in her love
The love of a woman
The love only a woman can give a man
And through the night I slept in her arms
Peaceful and content as if I be dreaming
Of the many kisses she placed on my forehead
and cheeks next to the tears she cried

As dawn's first sounds disturbed me from my sleep
I awoke to find she had gone from my side
And only a trace of her existence did remain
One laced handkerchief was all that she left
and of that my mind and heart are sure
For the smell of ambrosia it held in it's grasp
yet try not conceal her existence to me
So that now strong again my steed and I can ride
In search of that woman
My beautiful Lady Of The Light

Copyright ©2002 Ted G. Sheridan

Tears shed for me that I may see such life.


My Lady Of Light Part 2
By
La Belle Rouge

Stolen away, a captive of long ago fought war
From my Father’s Northern kingdom
I was but a poor maid alone in servitude
In a new land of thick mists and chilling fogs
Longing for crisp frigid air
And swirls of pristine snow
I found him there, by the life sustaining spring
When I went to draw water for the household
By his armor strong and
Valiant, though wasted, steed
I recognized him as one of
Her Majesty’s gallant Knights
Perchance taking respite of water and rest
Before beginning his noble quest once more
“Good Evening, My Lord” I did offer in greeting
But no move nor reply was made
And in my drawing near, his many bloody,
And perhaps, mortal wounds did appear
He could not speak to me
For mercifully he had fallen into
That fitful sleep of overmuch crushing pain
And pooling of bright blood upon the ground
No doubt, thought I,
He is returning from horrible battle
With fierce war lords of the North, I know well
How destructive and capable
The swords of my kinsmen
I should let him lie, the dog, and die there alone
But when I looked into the face
Of such once beautiful manhood
Hacked, bruised and festering
For want of attention I could not
My heart pierced through with love for him
And the hatred of war's futile cruelty and waste
With the tresses of my fire like hair,
I soothed and wiped his face
And tearing a length from my skirt,
Dipped it in cooling spring
And pressed it again and again to his fevered brow
His poor dying steed I could do little for,
Except a touch from
My sorrowing hand and a prayer
So I held him, this enemy Knight,
In my arms all that long night
Close to my wounded heart,
As wounded by war as his own
And my tears did fall freely with sorrow and love
Upon his once handsome, battle ravaged face
When first fingers of purple-gold dawn fell upon us
He and his noble steed still breathed
Gently I lowered his head to the ground
And placing a soft kiss
Upon his dried and swollen lips
I whispered, “Never forget me, My Knight,
“Forget never that a Norse woman
Did save you this night and remember forever
The name and love of Kerstin Bremer”
Then pressing into his hand
my scented lace handkerchief,
I left him to his God

(c) 11/01/2002 La Belle Rouge

"Poetry, Reflections Of Love"

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