Reprise

Crazy Horse Goes Heim: Revolution 8

Crazy Horse Goes Heim: Revolution 8

Originally Published 5 April 2023

Crazy Horse’s wound-weep worsens
across wending fell- and fen-journey, 
weakens warrior where he finds himself
fretland between heimar and parliament,

looking for land where wander cousins
to smoke and bone, the ice kings who roam
Jötun Home, once-kin wights of earth and air
and shades swirling there, the Lonely Places.

Those lost lands breed restless lemures, 
sorrowful eidolons learning ever
what was gone following the Forgetting, 
remembering again their losses.

Harjo recalls what was ruined -
for all, it remains all the same -
the gone good: flesh and family and song,
singers, tellers, and lovers nonextant;

memories on the whispering wind,
the way to rain on Rainy Mountain,
where waits the grief-peopled House Made of Dawn.
Horse-sisters of the ken call him there now.

“This,” he thinks, “the test brought to me.
In offal land coursing beating hearts 
one into another, this chance for rest,
balm-breeze where breath blows between realms.

A chance for home, soft-curling smoke,
the scent of sky-tears on new leaves,
warm hearth and baking, kilned river clay,
good things near-gone from the world I left.”

“I falter.”  Horse tells the air, the shades there;
they offer sad succor, sympathy
for what was lost and forgotten,
remembered and lamented once again.

The geist-giants linger, welcome
new babe to their land, then forget, lope on
towards sorrow, rememberance, as 
Steed ululates shade-faith, leaves that dun place.