Howls in the Ice

Here's a poem I wrote long ago, dedicated to Nicola Griffith and her characters. It came to me long ago, right after I read 'Always'. I've just spoken to her on Twitter. I never thought I'd have a chance to do that. This was written, when she was just magical prose in a printed page. Later, I discovered she had MS. How many years ago was it? I never thought she'd ever see this poem. Perhaps she will, now.

Introduction

This poem is dedicated to an author I’ve never met

She spun many a tale of strong women

Struggling to survive amidst the chaos 

Surrounded by people and politics, nature and mystery

In worlds like this one or born in science fiction

This poem was shaped by thoughts of her

Howls in the Ice

In an icy landscape

Where the trolls howl upon the fell

A bard raises her hand above the ice

She does not keep it, hovering there

Maintaining the lofty distance of the sorcerer with the elements

Her hand plunges into the ice

Ignoring cuts, bruises, and flow of blood

Ignoring the cold’s bite to the bone

Ignoring the howls of the hungry trolls

Or so it seems from the calm serenity on her face

She felt the bite, the pain, and heard the howls

They are all part of the process

A mighty cycle she willingly throws herself into

Without submission or sacrifice of her self

Her fingers have awakened to a dance, even as they freeze

This is not the shape they seek 

Chilled fingers move, feeling, aware

Shaping a tale from within the ice

This tale will be proud and beautiful

She does not bow to anyone

Nor does she fear, letting the quiver of danger freeze her 

A flush colors her pale cheeks as she hears the howls

Invigorating her young, newborn limbs

The bardic feelings the tale’s awakening spirit

As she works to free her from the ice

The howls are getting louder

Trolls circle bard and tale in their birthing place

Getting closer with every howl

The howls ring in the bard’s ears, making her shiver

The shiver tingles through her fingers to those of her tale

Shared awareness of danger brings shared powers

The tale discovers the strength to pull herself from the ice

The bard feels the powerful struggle of her tale’s birth

Her fingers are becoming numb 

Defying the cold takes its toll, as does defying the troll

Still, the bard maintains her connection to the tale

Passing on her strength, as the tale grows in might

Full grown, she pulls herself from the ice with a mighty howl

The howl is bloody with the pain of birth

Powerful with the joy of strength

Rich with the exhilaration of life

And grieved with the acceptance of her bard’s sacrifice

The bard, weakened by her struggle, looks up at the tale

Pride and wisdom weigh heavy upon her soul

Go, my daughter tale and never fear to shout your strength

Even as you walk through the land of the trolls

The tale studies the face of the one who created her

With a swift, decisive movement, she scoops up her bard

The tale’s strong arms can also be gentle

The bard sighs, as she finds herself carried across the ice

Even though she has spent her strength, the tale will go on

Walking an icy wasteland where the bard cannot go herself

The tale continues her proud march across the land of the trolls.