Thursday, April 29, 2010

The unbreaking of Islah Long

Far North, a small village
by river and wood.
A heardsman's small shack
near a field humbly stood.

Long since passed his wife
but before she did part
bore the herdsman's three lasses
with beauty and heart.

He raised them like sheep
and long broken their song.
the youngest of daughters,
the fair Islah Long.

Dark were her eyes
ever lowered they fixed
for without defense
of the old herdsman's tricks.

As for the herdsmans command,
"be not strong"
and so went the breaking
of young Islah Long

So, married by 14
to one going gray
like prized fatted calf
not a word did she say.

By 16, her duties,
well learned by her lord.
A subservient missus
well kept on a cord.

One day, into town
past a young riders side
caught the eye of young Islah
who matched him in stride

His eyes met her gaze,
they were much like his own,
transfixed for a moment
like calling her home

He beckoned her come,
having rode for a while,
he drew from her lips
a kind halfhearted smile.

And so took her with him
and pulling her near
compelled by a sadness
that caused her such fear.

He promised her boldly,
twas safe to become.
With a tear and a wail,
Islah no longer numb

Unable to serve him
her deeds he refused,
a beast died within her
twas no longer used.

He taught her to ride
and she took to the task.
Her legs gripped the steed
As she rode hard and fast

She longed and she lusted,
she howled with a throng.
And so, the untaming
of wild Islah Long

Her hair long and flowing,
now eyes bold and raised
these were the sweetest
of young Islah's days

No rules left to follow
No answers to owe
No sorrow, surrender
or lamenting woe

Making love in the medow
perfection and song,
gave his soul did the rider
to sweet Islah Long

Living on hillside
and riding through moor
The babe of the rider
inside her she bore

Proud was the father
and prouder his mate
but neaither aware
of a near future fate

Very soon the young rider
grew weary and ill
by his side the fair Islah
attended him still

And though strong and able,
She knew not what to do
and so, by and by
one last breath, he withdrew.

"I will not leave your side love,
I never shall leave.
By your grave I will stay,
to your soul I shall cleave"

A hovel she built there
and spoke to the wind
bound by a promise
she never would bend

And still,
even after her body had died
Her spirit was seen
on that old countryside

Hair wild and flowing
with eyes to the sun
reminding the youth
to leave nothing undone

So consider the tame,
and consider the strong
recall the unbreaking
of old Islah Long

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