Not in our time, not in or land
Far away a time we cannot understand
A land of chaotic features
A time of change and danger
The people are wild and wiser
Now we focus on this stranger
A woman dressed for war
Certainly not a domestic creature
A woman whose beliefs are worth fighting for
And fighting is her art
She’s not a women you can double cross
She’s too wise and will smell a rat
She’s a hunter and a peace keeper
You don’t want to make an enemy of this cat
This is no Christmas play
It’s no cartoon on channel four
This is real blood and tears
It’s a battle fought forever more
It’s not what you call an easy life
Its sweat and broken bones
This is no dirty pantomime
When you are using a sword in the sunshine
She has to protect her people from the enemy
She has to make sure her people are fed
She knows that one careless mistake
Will cost her dear with someone dead
She has to protect her people from the wilderness
She has to make sure her people have water
She knows what has been bestowed on her
But she is not the only king’s daughter
What is done is done
Once a whole now half is mine
The words of agony inside her head
Now she holds the sword in the sunshine
No end in sight, no time out in this war
Past days are long future months are more
No time to rest no time to be free
Just blood and sweat pain and agony
Only one day a year is given
To lay down the arms a pact
A glorious day of celebration
Only this day is the kingdom intact
Three wise women celebrate together
A mother and her twin daughters
Today the girls can wear a fake smile
Instead of thinking of slaughter
For an instant in eternity
The girls can see eye to eye
Resentment and anger are on hold
But why did our father the king have to die
After a dinner of remembrance,
After the music and the romance
Time only just to rest before the journey home
Time to return from the decadence
Back in to the robes of the huntress
The dagger and the crossbow
Time to block out all the anger
Got to stock up before the snow
It’s no fairy tale from east Europe
It’s not just a sick thought of mine
It’s the powerful smell of survival
And our heroine holds her sword aloft
In the dying, autumn sunshine….

(And the wolves and other fangs look on from
Shadows in the darkened enchanted forest)

first published October 2013