Silver Harp

Long have I watched the waves on the shore

The water and waves are a poor comfort now

I used to find peace near the shores of my home

Escape from my father and rabble of brothers

It seems ironic that they called me "loner"

At least they were with me, or always nearby

By choice did I isolate myself then

By force am I isolated now

A fitting sentence it is, to be sure

A Kinslayer has no right to peace

Madness had once gripped us

One by one it destroyed us

All I have left is my silver harp

Brought from home, mended often

All the strings are broken, save one

The second remains, though badly damaged

I couldn't replace them when they broke

First the middle three, then the last pair, then the first

How could I replace them; they were unique

Finding new ones would be difficult, nay, impossible

It would be easy, so easy to replace the harp

The silver so tarnished it looks as gold

Now I see I cannot cast it away

The last relic of my former joy and home

Long have I abided on this lost, lonely shore

Trying to make song with one remaining string

And long have I dwelt on this single question:

How long before this last string fails?

To Isilme…dearest friend, great advisor, fellow writer. Thanks for keeping me going when I wanted to give up. Happy belated birthday, mellon nin!