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Dreams of Blood and Iron by Alison T. Bond


Listen to the sound, a heartbeat underground. Listen to the breath, it’s silence embedded in death. Listen to my stories, calling from my past. I was built for glory, and this glory it shall last. Listen to the children, the children of the night, protected by my shadow, restricted by my plight. For in this world we are outcast. We are the unforgiven. In a society of reproach, for all this we must stay hidden. Immortal my beloved life, these centuries of old, silently coursing corridors, emotionally so cold. Do I hear her whisper? When will my lady come? I know that death is a woman, because I don’t belong. 2


So take me away my love, come to me in the night, for I have been awake for many ages, and I no longer wish to fight. My history is written, the fantasy will live. Perhaps until the end of time? It is all I’ve left to give. I was warrior and I was husband, I was a father, I was a mere man. But I am now a shadow in the dark, forgetful of where it all began. I weep for those golden years, as any old man knows. I pray my passing comes swiftly, as yet my soulless body flows. It flows along waters of entrapment, leading many of my kin, through a life of little joy, and I can only recall sin. Immortal my beloved, come and gather me tonight. See me set sail on an ocean, where I can at last rescind the fight. 3


Š Alison T. Bond 2014 email: tinytallulah@icloud.com twitter: @AlisonTBond

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Dreams of Blood and Iron  

A poem

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