The Convincing Of Cuchulain

The black wind blows now
the sea is not there as you see it
it is a fever dream brought on by
a dinner of dog flesh
the betrayal of a brother
a love untrue
6 mortal wounds
a strike of lightning
a magician's lie
and a hundred oak priests who are so afraid that you will find the strength to lift your sword again that they sing a song for your death

To be sure the black wind blows now
the sight of the sea soothes you
but you are nowhere near the water
the tree at your back is wet with blood
some is of you, some is of your slain enemies
this gore makes a red shadow on the black tree
even after you fall this red shape will remain
the blood will make it seem that you still stand there
in this your enemies will find fear

even as the black wind blows you deny it
you press your back firmly to the tree
your raised hand clutches a sword impossibly long
your other hand moves from wound to wound
there are 6
7 if you count your heart among them
your son is lost
your woman has left the field
your brother has put a shroud on your shared love
these are 8, 9 and 10

the black wind is at your ear
man of war
great hound
blood letter
head collector
widow maker
red shadow tied to a black tree
with a scar from lightning in your side
and sorrow in your heart
put down your blade
and run to the sea that is not there

The black wind rolls off of this sea
when you reach it we will depart this fever dream
I wish you to know that I am not death
I come after it
a small shadow
a black bird
I am the sweeper of battlefields
and the picker of bones
make a shroud
great hound

so that we may leave together