SWORDS

SWORDS, by Colleen Anderson

 

 

Torn from the earth with hard edged tools

biting into its mother’s belly

hammered, chiseled, pulverized

until it no longer recalls its long slumber

A sword begins the chaotic journey

of which it is forged

Without love nor comfort

nor the still acceptance of nature

it enters a fiery hell

from which there is no escape

any imprint of its existence before

melts down to its primordial essence

Poured and reshaped into a mold

is the closest the sword may relate

to its first time within the earth

but no tender glance, nor sweet words caress

this stage gives it a spine of steel

At this point a sword’s destiny

for marvels, magics or unending curses

changes the process and the blacksmith

casts a meaningful eye to the ore

adds arcane ground powders or bones

Pried from the mold it endures a gamut

of beatings and folding of metal

then fired into the furnace

and back again for more

no matter how it endures, there is still more

This is the time that sorcerers

men of purpose utter their whims

scream for gods, rage for demons

dire words settle in, resonate

sweat, tears, spit and blood fall

reverberate the blade with each hammer stroke

Into the forging each call shatters the air

gives it a connoisseur’s taste for more

while the only eye it may have is a gem

whether it enthralls others or just the wielder

nothing can distill the glint, dissuade

its hunger to be all it was meant to be

Once cooled from its rebirth

of which Vulcan would be proud

the sword’s purpose is embedded

its biography written

so deep that it only knows how to bite

rend and drink the incredible softness of life

It will bathe in warm blood

without guilt or conscience

fulfill its fate and if of a greater mettle

will sing when drawn from its scabbard

shiver with lust, loath to be sheathed

craving to lap the body’s sweet juices

The sword’s worst fear

if such a feeling resides

is not that it might break

with a stroke that will unmake it

but that it be lost to rust or worse

hung in honor upon a wall

to hear the siren songs of battle

yet never again able to slake its thirst

 

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Canadian writer and editor Colleen Anderson is a three-time Aurora Award finalist, was longlisted for the Stoker Award in fiction and the Rhysling in poetry.  She placed in the Balticon, Rannu and Crucible poetry competitions and has performed her work before audiences in the US, UK, and Canada.  Colleen also co-edited the anthologies Playground of Lost Toys (Aurora nominated), and Tesseracts 17, and her solo anthology Alice Unbound: Beyond Wonderland, was published in 2018.  A Body of Work was recently published by Black Shuck Books, UK.  Some of her work is in nEveromore!  Beuaty of Death, Shoreline of Infinity, OnSpec, Polu Texni, The Future Fire, and Cemetery Dance.  Colleen is currently working on a poetry collection as well as more fiction.