Forget-me-nots…the flowers of love and loss and remembrance. These beautiful little flowers are never more poignantly placed than when found growing in a churchyard or cemetery, a symbol of a love no longer present but one that has not been forgotten.
And that brings me on to my own offering for this week’s Monday Inspiration…a poem that I had written and published on an old blog in 2012, titled The Maiden’s Lament. I had quite forgotten all about it until I posted the picture yesterday. It is a little rough round the edges, like the other things I post here and perhaps requires a little work, but I think it fits the theme quite well.
The Maiden’s Lament
She walks upon the golden sands,
As the water gently laps the shore,
Crying tears of pain and sorrow
For the love she’ll see no more.
Off to distant lands, he’s gone
On a ship with a dragon at the prow
Pulling oars as big as trees
Sweat dripping from his furrowed brow.
Out across the sea she stares
To no avail, he won’t return,
No matter how much she pleads and wishes
Men love war, they’ll never learn.
The night before he left her bed,
A vision, bloody, came to her
Of a battlefield in a distant land
With her lover dead; none did stir.
She begged her lover not to go
Though it wounded pride and brought much shame
To have a woman behave so
She watched him leave, all the same.
He promised her he would return;
“There’s nothing to fear, just watch and wait,”
She took her lover at his word,
And so decided this her fate:
Everyday she sits and waits
Upon the shore, by the glistening sea
Every night, her heart it breaks
For the love she lost, and will never see.
The loss she feels it everyday,
When the sun it rises, and when it sets
When the moon stands guard over the night,
Try as she might, she won’t forget.
Years have passed since that day
When the ship with the dragon at the prow
Set sail and was never seen again
But she keeps her vigil, she keeps her vow.
Legend tells us of a maiden
Who wasted away down by the shore
Waiting for her long lost lover,
Who set sail and returned no more.
When storms are raging off the coast
When the waves are high and foaming white
Listen to the lady calling
For her love, throughout the night.
In the morning, when the storm has passed
Venture down there, by the shore
A voice will say “I watched; I waited
“But my love will come to me no more.”
If she could know her love’s last thoughts
Were of her, their love and future lost
Would that have eased her hefty burden?
Reduced a little the heavy cost?
Whose to know, it matters little
She wasted away nonetheless
Pining for the love that was stolen
By man’s hunger for war made manifest.