fisherman, Odin 9 Options

[4rum]

fisherman

...in memory of an old fisherman. He stood, bent and weathered,
his eyes were moist... an old rhyme ran through his head...

...tight are the bonds that hold you,
...tight as a spider might weave,
...allowing just enough to live,
...but never enough to leave.

It had not always been this way.
Once he was young, foolish...he had dared to dream.
He dreampt of good fortune,
of wealth and a life inland,
away from your spray, away from your crashing waves, away from your smell.

But you held him, your meager allotment fed him, clothed him, but kept him here.

Oh, once there was hope...
you played him well...
an extra boat, bought with a promise...
a taught net...a burgeoning hold,
but when they turned homeward you sent the wind...
it howled...it screamed...it laughed...
when both vessels were broken on the beach...
all were lost but him.

The fisherman alone was spared... to be hated above all in the village...they were his and they were lost, he was cursed.

Now for years he cast his nets from the reef. He caught only enough to eat and trade a little for oil for his lamp.

And then there came Anna...
he was alone, on the beach...
outside his small hut, mending his nets...
his hands raw and sore.

He saw her coming 'round the cove and down the shore from over there...the other side...where the wealthy came to summer.

She strode nearer...
his heartbeat matched her rythmic step.

In the small circle of his lamp she stopped "good eve’n sir, I am Anna from across the way". And they talked.

She was a chore girl sent ahead to open the villa
her master would arrive a fortnight hence

The fisherman could hardly utter a response at first but Anna was a gushing fountain flowing with warmth...
and laughter..

laughter light and ringing...
he was sure some one would hear..
would come to break the spell...
but they had the evening and the start of night...
when Anna said that she must go.

He sat in silence as she rose...he chanced a glance at her face, her hair as she turned. His heart stopped as she turned again..."May I come tomorrow"?
...he could but nod.

An evil tease you are...fisherman could not know!

On the marrow you gave yourself up...
you flaunted, you flirted you tricked him once more.
You gave him a Sturgeon to milk and to share...
he could not bear the hours 'til she came once more.

From the lords pantry
she brought wine
and they ate and they laughed .

From his pocket he cupped his play pipe to his lips and a melody was born that neither had heard. She rose and she danced...a bright shining top...spinning, whirling, round an' round, triiiilllll, trillllll, trila, trill...la...loo, her shadow burst forth as her shirts flared away...
then the oil was gone.

The darkness caught them,
and quieted their souls
'til mounting moments brought on the moon.
Then he could see her,
just that far away...

and she turned and she beckoned and he knew of her touch. This night she was his but when came the light...

...she knew you not as he...
and when she bathed you had your way.
You showed her a secret scarce twenty foot down,
seen by many...but only once.
It was shiny and pretty and bravely she dove...
and you took her
and held her
and she could not rise.
And now nearly spent...
you lifted her up...
allowed her to call...
to awaken his sleep.

He came to her call, but try as he would,
you pushed him back...
again and again.
He saw her but briefly
an outstretched arm...
and the look and the horror,
of knowledge of death.

She was gone in an instant...
to rise never more,
not a trace nor a sound,
left to proof that she was....

but him who had ired you,
you cast him ashore,
like a leaf from the mainland
which could not return.

When he had roused,
and reckoned your hate,
he tried once more to claim his prize.
But try as he might...
to save her or drown,
like a cat with a mouse...
you clawed through his soul...
tossed him, teased him...
left him to grieve.

And many a year has now lapsed away...
His will was to leave but you made him stay.
As his last breath faded and waned,...
He turned his back now you must remain.
His feeble steps faltered... then faltered again
But as death took him he had broken your reign.

[Cleo_Serapis]

Thank you for your entry into Odin's Opposition!

Perhaps you'll rise up, drink from the Well of Wisdom and be crowned the 'bringer of victory'?

Best of luck in the battle!

~Mosaic Musings Staff