The Next Foray

Fire stormed across the forest, black hulks
of trees and wisps of ugly smoke
bring fear to my vision and I find
I cannot speak . . . or even cry.

I take a step toward my land,
now ruined, then another step,
but soon I lose my legs,
just as I lost my voice.

Now I can only stare,
and wonder if I have lost
my life, or my will, or have I
lost my soul, my very soul?

Where is the taste of hope;
how can one find it in the midst
of ruin? How does one recapture
the soul? How does one go on?

At last I find I can move my legs
backwards; I can retreat but I
cannot go forward. This then
is in the nature of my soul . . .

it will stand behind me,
in the event of ruin, waiting
for me to shoulder the defeat,
and begin my next foray

by circling around the current
problem. The soul will not rush
forward to partake of defeat, as though
to tell me it has waited, waited, before . . .

sometimes for lifetimes before.

Artist's note:
The Roman historian, Ammeanus Marcellinus, wrote that Celtic women followed their men into battle, taking an energetic part in the melee. An axiom of the times was a Celtic man and his wife could hold off an entire troop of Roman soldiers. It was not recorded however if women went naked into battle as the men did. In the Celtic world, women possessed equal rights with men, and could inherit land and wealth. Women could be elected to any office and also be admitted to war councils.