The World Tree - V. Lament of the Legionary's Wife

Sister, my dearest soul,

Have we been forgotten ––

Here at Empire’s edge?

Watchtowers crumble, buckles rust,

I trade last coins for meat.

They speak of the first years

When the Wall, white and shining

Stood like a glacier’s front ––

As if the old ice had

Crept up from the south,

To lick its tongues again.

Sleepless, I climb the milecastle,

Look north over this scalped land,

This frontier zone that I cannot call home.

Heather and wheat and no tree in sight,

All cleared for fields of fire.

So we hurry up and wait,

We murmur to each other,

Warm our hands round memory’s watchfire,

Burning dreams we scarce remember,

How the poppies bloom,

How the land blazes with blossom

All spring, all summer,

The desert’s hot chafe;

The blood-red wines,

The forested mountains.

I dream I am liquid as water

Fleet as light, utter as night.

Sister, no one is coming,

These words will go unheard,

Here at Empire’s end.

We have left a desolation

And called it peace.