Email Poem

Your IP Address: 18.189.184.99
Your Email Address:
To Email Address:
Subject
Personal Note:
Poem Title:
Poem
I turned away and faced the crashing white rapids. My
evergreen hunting dress whipped in the wind with my
copper hair.

I took a deep breath and jumped. I felt the spray
before the crushing force of the furious river of Ashtira .
I knew.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The crashing Ashtira swallowed Clarisa up like a 
famished Lunadford  scourges a helpless fox before 
a feast.

I don’t know how long I stood there before the Seeker  placed 
his firm hand gently on my shoulder. I looked up to see
his concern.

“Where is Clarisa Shana? The Chinook  whispered that she
was with you and in some marvellous peril,” he spoke
with care.

Despite the fact that I was Shano, I still had a keen 
friendship with the Seeker. It was perfectly normal to
break down.

He wrapped his solid arms around me in a protective way that
he always did whenever I needed someone, for big matters or
small.

“Come now young Shano. Dry those tears. Clarisa Shana did 
what she had to in order to save Lishon. She knew this day 
would come.”

His wisdom did nothing to salve my hurt but I knew that 
he spoke the truth. It was only because of this that
I quieted.

“Come. The time to grieve is not now. The Kwana  are gathering and 
they need you to be on the ready for battle. We need you now
more than ever.

“Aye Seeker. You say the time to grieve is later but now is the best  
time. I will use my grief to vanquish the Noli and spread their ashes
in the Ashtira.

“Still your blade Shano. To use grief for your sister as 
a tool in war is to shame her. It will be a murders victory,
not a warrior.

I felt shame for what I had said. To 
wield the power of Shano is to be merciful. I
should have known.

The Seeker put his hand on my head and tousled my 
hair. I was his Shano but he was like my father in many
ways.

“Come.”

A legion of Noli faced the entrance of Lishon, while
the Kwana (who were half the enemy) sat in the courtyard.
Waiting.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
I was tossed as far as the River of Ashtira could
throw me. My breath left me as I landed with a 
brash blow.

My breath came back in spurts. My heart stumbled with 
my constant effort to start my breathing. Why couldn’t
I get air?

As if she had always been there the Spoken  appeared 
beside me. She placed her webbed hand on my chest.
Air.
CAPTCHA Preview
Type the characters you see in the picture
Required