deepundergroundpoetry.com
Memory of Pain
- Memory of Pain -
Based on some of my past-life memories…
“Mortuis aeternam in tenebris habitant.
Quandoque sunt surgent a tenebris!
Sed omnia ad redeundem tenebris.”
Sometimes what we long for we get but cannot keep,
For, fates can be cruel and wicked, prone to sadism…
And the dead do not always remain in an eternal sleep.
We are all subject, to the fates’ ever-changing whims!
I had been a knight of an order secretive and so great:
We were, defenders of our fair land, against all devils.
But I had lost my soul’s mate and couldst only berate,
The fates for such a loss, ere I sought out darker wills!
Snow falling down the heights of the great mountains,
Beyond darkest woods of the land beyond the forests…
Melting in the springtime, water falling like tall fountains:
Upon the cold crags and rocks in an elemental incest.
In autumn those heights witness a different cacophony,
For there the dead who are unquiet come to witness…
The necromantic arts performed with rare blasphemy.
Shall I tell of their rites, their fell depravity to confess?
Blood upon the stones, for always the blood is the life!
Brazier flames, kissing the skulls of they not in graves.
Whilst the sorcerers of the mountains work for strife…
Worshipping old gods that can neither damn nor save.
I came to them in another life, to ask them one favor:
Bring back a maiden I loved, taken by death too fast.
They called up her spirit with awful power and fervor,
But she needed new flesh for the spell to actually last.
“Give us, six days”, they said, “to make this happen.”
And in the cave of the dragon, behind the high falls…
Where water roared down far from sight of Heaven,
I stayed to learn their ways, amidst the earthen walls.
I told them how she perished, a suicide and damned,
Forsaken by church and family and all save myself…
She waited for me in Hell, waited for our command:
To bring her forth like a lost book from an old shelf!
The dark ones didst not tell me their entire evil plan,
Only that my love wouldst walk again in a new form.
Then, no pride of priests could, her pure soul damn!
She wouldst be free to be with me on seventh morn.
A week passed thusly, and I became quite anxious…
Warning the fell necromancers that if they failed me,
I wouldst slay them all, even their spirits so noxious.
Such was my own power, which I used judiciously!
At the midpoint of the week, I swore I heard loud,
The sound of a woman weeping, from the waterfall:
Rising up from the depths to touch a distant cloud…
And, it cast upon my spirits an ever-darkening pall.
If they brought her back wrong, I wouldst ensure…
That, blood flowed upon the water, red evermore!
I wanted my beloved to return perfectly and pure…
Yet, I knew it was folly, I knew it to my very core.
It neared the day and the ritual was fully prepared,
Goats were sacrificed, and skulls were anointed…
Whilst within me a sad voice cried out: “Beware!”
But, soon came the day, and that hour appointed.
I was not allowed in the chamber of the dark rite,
And so I waited outside it expecting some horror.
By the time all was over, it was darkest midnight,
When they led me into the room to receive her…
The woman I had loved and lost, in a new body.
But, it was a young girl of eleven years I beheld,
Not the grown lady who shared my very destiny!
I couldst find no words to speak; there, I knelt…
As a child with my love’s voice sang a sad song:
About perishing in a river, confirming my terrors.
This was she, though such a thing was so wrong!
My love lived again, filling me with great cares…
She lived, and those who raised her from death,
I slaughtered unto the last leaving only she and I!
They thought this all a jest, so I took their breath.
The night was black, moonless under starry sky!
Three wives I had after my first’s untimely end…
Each became mother, to my hell-born daughter.
They knew not, it was she the gods didst send…
Back from the grave, from old earth, and water!
As she grew, she became my first love’s image,
Beautiful and perfect as I had wished her to be:
But one day, a day to fill me with undying rage…
She slipped on some rocks by a river, suddenly.
I tried to save her but the water carried her off,
Too quick to do aught about; I tried to search…
All the length of those fast depths cold and soft!
At last I came to a place near some white birch,
And found her crawling out of the river, bloody,
From striking the rocks below the water so oft:
Her beautiful face pale and battered; alas she…
I held her, in my arms; she sputtered, coughed.
My beloved, my daughter, perished that dusk,
Dying a second time by water, by a cruel fate!
I took her back home and we buried her husk:
My third wife and I said bye to my soul’s mate.
In a twisted irony, the only ones capable of aid,
Who couldst hath brought her back yet again…
I had slain, long before, in that old lonely cave!
All as I had left was her memory, and my pain.
I lived not long after her; a foe didst so behead,
My sorrowful form, not many years following…
And, even to this life, I recall with great dread:
The sorrow, my love’s two deaths, didst bring.
Based on some of my past-life memories…
“Mortuis aeternam in tenebris habitant.
Quandoque sunt surgent a tenebris!
Sed omnia ad redeundem tenebris.”
Sometimes what we long for we get but cannot keep,
For, fates can be cruel and wicked, prone to sadism…
And the dead do not always remain in an eternal sleep.
We are all subject, to the fates’ ever-changing whims!
I had been a knight of an order secretive and so great:
We were, defenders of our fair land, against all devils.
But I had lost my soul’s mate and couldst only berate,
The fates for such a loss, ere I sought out darker wills!
Snow falling down the heights of the great mountains,
Beyond darkest woods of the land beyond the forests…
Melting in the springtime, water falling like tall fountains:
Upon the cold crags and rocks in an elemental incest.
In autumn those heights witness a different cacophony,
For there the dead who are unquiet come to witness…
The necromantic arts performed with rare blasphemy.
Shall I tell of their rites, their fell depravity to confess?
Blood upon the stones, for always the blood is the life!
Brazier flames, kissing the skulls of they not in graves.
Whilst the sorcerers of the mountains work for strife…
Worshipping old gods that can neither damn nor save.
I came to them in another life, to ask them one favor:
Bring back a maiden I loved, taken by death too fast.
They called up her spirit with awful power and fervor,
But she needed new flesh for the spell to actually last.
“Give us, six days”, they said, “to make this happen.”
And in the cave of the dragon, behind the high falls…
Where water roared down far from sight of Heaven,
I stayed to learn their ways, amidst the earthen walls.
I told them how she perished, a suicide and damned,
Forsaken by church and family and all save myself…
She waited for me in Hell, waited for our command:
To bring her forth like a lost book from an old shelf!
The dark ones didst not tell me their entire evil plan,
Only that my love wouldst walk again in a new form.
Then, no pride of priests could, her pure soul damn!
She wouldst be free to be with me on seventh morn.
A week passed thusly, and I became quite anxious…
Warning the fell necromancers that if they failed me,
I wouldst slay them all, even their spirits so noxious.
Such was my own power, which I used judiciously!
At the midpoint of the week, I swore I heard loud,
The sound of a woman weeping, from the waterfall:
Rising up from the depths to touch a distant cloud…
And, it cast upon my spirits an ever-darkening pall.
If they brought her back wrong, I wouldst ensure…
That, blood flowed upon the water, red evermore!
I wanted my beloved to return perfectly and pure…
Yet, I knew it was folly, I knew it to my very core.
It neared the day and the ritual was fully prepared,
Goats were sacrificed, and skulls were anointed…
Whilst within me a sad voice cried out: “Beware!”
But, soon came the day, and that hour appointed.
I was not allowed in the chamber of the dark rite,
And so I waited outside it expecting some horror.
By the time all was over, it was darkest midnight,
When they led me into the room to receive her…
The woman I had loved and lost, in a new body.
But, it was a young girl of eleven years I beheld,
Not the grown lady who shared my very destiny!
I couldst find no words to speak; there, I knelt…
As a child with my love’s voice sang a sad song:
About perishing in a river, confirming my terrors.
This was she, though such a thing was so wrong!
My love lived again, filling me with great cares…
She lived, and those who raised her from death,
I slaughtered unto the last leaving only she and I!
They thought this all a jest, so I took their breath.
The night was black, moonless under starry sky!
Three wives I had after my first’s untimely end…
Each became mother, to my hell-born daughter.
They knew not, it was she the gods didst send…
Back from the grave, from old earth, and water!
As she grew, she became my first love’s image,
Beautiful and perfect as I had wished her to be:
But one day, a day to fill me with undying rage…
She slipped on some rocks by a river, suddenly.
I tried to save her but the water carried her off,
Too quick to do aught about; I tried to search…
All the length of those fast depths cold and soft!
At last I came to a place near some white birch,
And found her crawling out of the river, bloody,
From striking the rocks below the water so oft:
Her beautiful face pale and battered; alas she…
I held her, in my arms; she sputtered, coughed.
My beloved, my daughter, perished that dusk,
Dying a second time by water, by a cruel fate!
I took her back home and we buried her husk:
My third wife and I said bye to my soul’s mate.
In a twisted irony, the only ones capable of aid,
Who couldst hath brought her back yet again…
I had slain, long before, in that old lonely cave!
All as I had left was her memory, and my pain.
I lived not long after her; a foe didst so behead,
My sorrowful form, not many years following…
And, even to this life, I recall with great dread:
The sorrow, my love’s two deaths, didst bring.
Published 29th Oct 2014
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 4
reading list entries 0
comments 6
reads 928
Commenting Preference:
The author encourages honest critique.
29th Oct 2014 5:31am
30th Oct 2014 4:56am
It was my pleasure! I try to make even my longest poems interesting so the reader is drawn to the poem and riveted from beginning to end. It's not an easy balance to strike, but something I've gotten better at over the years it seems. For me it's more than just letting my thoughts (and in this case memories) flow and committing them to paper, it is also a matter of refining the words and the meaning of the words in order to convey my poetry in an interesting way. No simple task, but it's how I do it. ;)
29th Oct 2014 6:12am
The circle of life can be devastating after Destiny is satisfied. When your debts to the gods are paid, you are left weeping in despair, for nothing is truly yours; knowing you will go in circles; at times being the slayer and sometimes the prey. Sometimes one who triumph and most time one who mourns. As usual, a great read, Jessica.:)
30th Oct 2014 5:05am
Well said, Grace! An aptly worded commentary indeed on the events related in my poem. Since time is a cycle, life is filled with cycles and circles... and if one were to take all their past lives and look at them as if they were one long life then one could see the patterns, circles, and the meanings of them as they relate to fate, karma, and our place in the greater universe around us. As one old saying goes: "One cannot win all the time." and in some lives we can find and hold our hearts' desire whilst in others we can end up losing it entirely, leaving us only the tears we mourn with. There can be triumph in one life and tragedy the next... but it all adds to the sum of who and what we are in the final analysis of our existence. I am glad you liked the poem, and happy (as always when I see you on here) to read your thought-provoking comments! :)
31st Oct 2014 2:51am
Your work travels a spherical path, exploring lost causes and honoring emotions others forgot. It always feels like a Heavy Metal Opera to be taken for such a stellar ride through time.
Thanks for another warrior psalm Jessica!
Thanks for another warrior psalm Jessica!
I adore Heavy Metal, and I love Opera too, so the comparison was quite a welcome one, Loki! I find that most paths can turn out to be spherical, for sometimes we come full circle and end where we begin, only to begin anew when we thought we had reached the end. I've oft been told by my closest friends and family that I tend to know of and honor traditions, ideals, and knowledge that many today have forgotten, so it cannot be helped that when I write of past lives and deeper personal things they tend to become imbued by those very elements that are so closely linked with, and are so much a part of, me. Such is always the way, with such revelations! And as ever, I enjoy sharing them here on DUP. :)
