An heir is chosen to protect a family secret. (40 Lines.)
“You have to believe we are magic.”
Those were the last words that he said.
His plea struck such a chord in me.
Can’t get the message from my head.
Memories buried deep inside,
stirring at the earnest plea.
Begging for attention,
and longing to be free.
I had closed them off so long ago,
warned, “No one can ever know!”
about our family’s special talents,
my powers I could not show.
Grandpa often told us tales
as we sat around the fire
about the denizens of the hollow hills
and fairies from the land of Eire.
Some members of the Ethereal
and some from the earthly plane
married and all had children.
But then the Righteous came.
The men of religion made new rules,
“No more magic in the realm!”
Those families fled on masted ships
with the Elders at the helm.
They sailed away to freedom
crossing a glass smooth sea.
They found peace in the distant highlands,
grateful to be free.
Their traditions passed by word of mouth
to each and every heir.
“You will know your Ethereal cousins,
by the color of their hair.”
“Safeguard the magic at all times.”
“Don’t let the Righteous ever know.”
“We must protect the Ethereal
to let our magic flow.”
It’s my turn now to guard them all,
the ancient ones of Eire.
My grandpa knew just who to choose.
My color is Auburn Fire.