02-08-2012, 11:09 PM
A tale that hung thereby (or poor Emmet's tale)
Up came the blast to meet we four, hastening down the scree,
And each within his bones felt dread
When down below the land fell dead
And buried, deep; in cloud so dense
Our vision failed. We could not sense
Enough to judge which way was whence
Within that vap'rous sea.
From howl on howl there came a roar as of a great release.
We braced ourselves against cold stones
And tensed our sinews, wedged our bones,
Against the tearing wind's wild veer.
Hell's hounds broke loose and mortal fear
Convinced us that our end was near
But with it, promised peace.
Still rising yet, in mighty gusts, the air throbbed with my heart;
Then each in turn shed tears for life,
Old memories of love and strife.
Our prayers, sucked out in precious breath,
Were surely meant; as sure as death
Comes to us all, yet worries less
Until we needs must part.
We clamped down tight in fear and fright of what the fates might bring.
The air had turned and rodding rain
Became steel shafts; and such the pain
Upon our cold and exposed brows,
Resolved we then to tell of how
We lived through this. We made a vow,
Then all began to sing.
Our grip on life was holding yet, though Emmet's voice grew shrill.
A deep and chill foreboding rose,
Whilst in our hearts our life blood froze.
From far away a rushing scream,
As of the horror in a dream,
Bore down on us, a threat unseen,
That tested each man's will.
The very land beneath us shook and trembled deep and low
And we, prostrate on scavenged rock
Felt every tremor, every shock
As all around dark earth slid free,
And yielding to God's gravity,
Assumed a strange fluidity:
A fearsome, fateful flow.
Above us screeched the mighty wind, an endless dire lament.
To left and right flowed liquid land,
Encroaching, yet no man could stand,
Nor raise himself up to his knees,
Nor lift a finger to appease
His God, impossible to please,
By prayer or sacrament.
Yet pray we did, each to himself, as cold cut through our bones.
The words were formed of breathless sound
Anguished by terror all around;
And all our hopes were much the same,
That by accepting equal blame
We would, sans hubris and disdain,
Be guided safely home.
Drowned out by hail that now hurled down, our prayers were good as sin.
The rolling wall of earth and grit
Began to wear us, bit by bit.
Our fingers, frozen, failed to grip
Upon the scree. We knew to slip
Would bring and end to this last trip
And death would take us in.
The first, poor Emmet, lost his hold and wailing slipped from sight.
His face a mask of terror, pale
And bloodied by the gritty hail,
Transfixed us three as he slid by,
We three (who cannot, will not die)
In silence , vowed to death defy
And for poor Emmet.. fight!
The rope, once stiff and frozen hard, now jerked and snagged and flailed.
Poor Emmet, though now lost to view
By weight and pull still lived. We knew
That only moments had he left
Before sucked in to mud filled cleft,
Before of life he fell bereft;
We could not , would not fail.
Blaygrave screamed out "ROCKS ABOVE!", and pointed, mimed and waved.
McKenny gripped the taught raw line
And plucked it hard to send a sign.
I felt the tug and turned to look,
Good that I did, the mountain shook,
And by his friendship and by luck
I leapt and so was saved.
Great boulders crashed around the ledge and hurtled overhead.
We clung on to to the iron hard cord
And damned the Devil and the Lord.
And all the while poor Emmet swung
On that long rope, in fear he hung,
No hope of help from lowered rung,
Believing all were dead.
The wind had peaked but angered gusts upon our perch now slammed.
Yet by the nature of the fight
We felt an easing, then saw light
Flirt with the mist that swirled on high,
A glint of sun in smoking sky;
Then brighter till it sored the eye
And through our tears saw land.
Rain softened as the wind resigned, as though to destined fate.
McKenny hauled Blaygrave upright
I grasped them both and held them tight.
Elation turned to sickening dread
As slowly crept we to the edge
And peered down from our puny ledge
To see poor Emmet's state.
There he swayed encased in clay, arms hanging, dripping blood.
No more like death had any seen
Nor lived through such and yet still been
Alive and quick to thank his Lord
With grateful, humble, whispered word
That surely all the world had heard:
A prayer to brotherhood.
We sit now in this warming place, poor Emmet sleeps away.
We speak each of our inner fears
And these are mine, through gladdened tears.
The others will have thoughts to tell
Of that grave day poor Emmet fell
And how through grace all turned out well;
Though Emmet will not say.
Tectak
2011
Up came the blast to meet we four, as we hastened down the scree,
And each within his bones felt dread
When down below the land fell dead
And buried, deep; in cloud so dense
That eyes lost sight and could not sense
Enough to judge which way was whence
Within that vaporous sea.
From howl on howl there came a roar as of a great release.
We braced ourselves against cold stones
And tensed our sinews, wedged our bones,
Against the tearing wind's wild veer.
Hell's hounds broke loose and mortal fear
Convinced us each our end was near
And with it blessed peace.
But rising still, in mighty gusts, the air throbbed with my heart;
Then each in turn shed tears for life,
Old memories of love and strife.
Our prayers, sucked out in precious breath,
Were surely meant; as sure as death
Comes to us all, yet worries less
Until we needs must part.
We clamped down tight in fear and fright of what the fates would bring.
The air had turned and rodding rain
Steel shafts became; and such the pain
Upon our cold and exposed brows
Resolved we each to tell of how
We lived through this. We made a vow,
Then all began to sing.
The grip on life was holding yet, though Emmet's voice grew shrill.
A deep and chill foreboding rose;
Whilst in our hearts our life blood froze.
From far away a rushing scream,
As of the horror in a dream,
Bore down on us, a threat unseen,
That tested each man's will.
The very land beneath us shook and trembled deep and low
And we, prostrate on scavenged rock
Felt every tremor, every shock
As all around dark earth slid free,
And yielding to God's gravity,
Assumed a strange fluidity:
A fearsome, fateful flow.
Above us screeched the mighty wind, an endless sad lament.
To left and right flowed liquid land,
Encroaching, yet no man could stand,
Nor raise himself up to his knees,
Nor lift a finger to appease
His God, impossible to please,
By prayer or sacrament.
Yet pray we did, each to himself, as cold cut through our bones.
The words were formed of breathless sound
Anguished by terror all around;
And all our hopes were much the same,
That we should each accept the blame
As if sans hubris and disdane
We would be safely home.
Drowned out by hail that now hurled down, our prayers were good as sin.
The rolling wall of earth and grit
Began to wear us, bit by bit.
Our fingers, frozen, failed to grip
Upon the scree. We knew to slip
Would bring and end to this last trip
And death would take us in.
The first, poor Emmet, lost the hold and wailing slipped from sight.
His face a mask of terror, pale
And bloodied by the gritty hail,
Transfixed us three as he slid by,
We three (who cannot, will not die)
In silence , vowed to death defy
And for poor Emmet.. fight!
The rope, once stiff and frozen hard, now jerked and snagged and flailed.
Poor Emmet, though now lost to view
By weight and pull still lived. We knew
That only moments had he left
Before sucked in to mud filled cleft
Before of life he fell bereft,
We could not , would not fail.
Blaygrave screamed out "ROCKS ABOVE!", and pointed, mimed and waved.
McKenny gripped the taught raw line
And plucked it hard to send a sign.
I felt the tug and turned to look,
Good that I did, the mountain shook,
And by his friendship and by luck
I leapt and so was saved.
Great boulders crashed around the ledge and hurtled overhead.
We clung on to to the iron hard cord
And damned the Devil and the Lord.
And all the while poor Emmet swung
On that long rope, in fear he hung,
No hope of help from lowered rung,
Believing all were dead.
The wind now peaked and angered gusts upon our perch now slammed
Yet by the nature of the fight
We felt an easing, then saw light.
Flirt with the mist that swirled on high,
A glint of sun in smoking sky;
Then brighter till it sored the eye
And through our tears saw land.
Rain softened as the wind resigned, as though to destined fate.
McKenny hauled Blaygrave upright
I grasped them both and held them tight.
Elation turned to sickening dread
As slowly crept we to the edge
And peered down from our puny ledge
To see poor Emmet's state.
There he swayed encased in clay, arms hanging, dripping blood.
No more like death had any seen
Nor lived through such and yet still been
Alive and quick to thank his Lord
With quiet grateful, humble word
That surely all the world had heard:
A prayer to brotherhood.
We sit now in this warming place, poor Emmet sleeps away.
We speak each of our inner fears
And these are mine, through gladdened tears.
The others will have thoughts to tell
Of that grave day poor Emmet fell
And how through grace all turned out well;
Though Emmet will not say.
Tectak
2011