West of the Moon
A Tolkien Fanfiction Archive
Bit tricky with poetry: post quest...
A/N: (Frodo sonnets are modelled on John Donne’s modified Petrarchan scheme; Sam sonnets are Shakespearean) I could not manage a circular sequence but have tried to pick up sounds and rhymes and themes to bring them as close as possible: a circle with a pause perhaps.
Like shadows on the wings of night I’m
And haunted –haunting you with all my pain;
And breaking you and souring all you gain,
Through being that for which you cannot mourn:
A tainted soul who cannot be reborn
Until the path is straightened, once again,
Beyond pale shores and westward ‘cross the main,
Where I will ever be a soul forlorn
Until, you also come at last to me;
Unbidden, not unlooked for –when you will,
When life has given all and set you free:
Has made you rich in everything and still
You look for something more, something that you
Remember yet and set out to renew.
I tried to set my hands in soil again,
To feel the brave redemption that I’ve seen
In every shoot and leaf that dared the pain
Of bitter earth and all that might have been
Before. I used the gift, my Lady, tried
The best I could to share the hope I’d found
But bitter tears betray and hope’s denied
And gentle hearts decay in barren ground.
And gentle hearts, that draw towards an end
Of pain, plant bitter seeds and cannot see
The other endings, other griefs that wend
And twine in other lives: are blind to we
Who cannot reach beyond the narrow sight
That holds us close in blindness but seems right.
understand. I know that we must part.
Although it sears the edges of my mind,
And stops my breath to think that I might find
Myself alone beyond the winds that dart
And dash themselves against the cliffs apart,
That tower black against the skies that climb
Into the heights of fear. And still remind
Me, now, of when you left me to the art
And subterfuge of hate that never slept;
But merely waited. All your care and love
Crashed down amidst the ruin and you wept
But held to hope and looked to find, above
The brutal slaughter and the poisoned taste
Of terror, me: abject amidst the waste.
There’s hurt unspoken, bitter in your
Although you’re smiling. Trust me one last time
And let me know you. Put an end to lies
That steal and wither summers that were mine
Before the thin disguise that shut me out.
You left me long ago but struggled on
As if a wish and hope could conquer doubt;
As if you lingered still and had not gone
Beyond my small perception into night
Without the fragile beauty of our love
But webbed and tangled in a dream of light
That even yet might mend you: let you move
And let you breathe sweet life despite the pain
Of being here and dying yet again.
was when I looked with bleeding eyes
Upon the earth that roiled beneath my feet,
And power surged within in me: sweet deceit
That lapped and soothed and slaked my thirst with lies;
I would not hear the anguish in your cries
But smiled to see you on your knees replete
And filled with suffering and made complete.
And all the world lay naked to dark skies
That tumbled in their own untrammeled lust,
And time was just a toy that I might break
To please myself; or maybe I’d be just:
A greater tyrant ready to remake
The peace. And lay my love against the hate
To heal us all -but pity came too late.
is dying, falling into night:
Into a winter spring can never end;
But winter evenings lend their own delight
To frosted firs and lights glow in the bend
Along the Row and homely candles cast
Their gentle shadows all along the wall,
And present need forbids all sorrows past
Amongst the faded seasons and the fall
Of whispered voices calling in my mind;
But even as I watch the endless play
Of all the stories we could never find,
Doubt crumbles and I seem to hear you say:
“I’m waiting for you here across the sea;
I’m waiting for your healing: come to me.”
wavers here like sunlight on the sea,
Or distant singing losing every voice
In cold reflections. But I made a choice
To leave you, Sam until you saw that we
Were meant to be together, meant to be
Beyond the narrow gathering of noise
That fed my madness. Soon we can rejoice.
I feel it, Sam, it stills the heart of me
And bids me wait a little, bids me trust
That you might come unburdened when you will,
That you will bring me healing; for you must
Or else I’ll stray in torment, doubting still
That I have been forgiven for my pride:
I’m waiting, Sam, to know that doubt’s denied.