Tristan's Poem
To know death is to know love,
And to know real love is to know
The feeling of your heart stopping,
Every time you look at her.
To see your grinning reflection
In her vibrant, lovely eyes.
I knew it once, a long time ago.
Even if I knew her for only a short time,
Rescuing her when she wanted it to end.
I detested her at first,
Her very existence testing my patience,
I often wished I hadn't been her savior.
She didn't fancy me much either,
In her eyes, I was a demon who
Prolonged her pain of immortality.
She slept in my bed and befriended my hawk,
. . . everything began to smell like her.
She had no where to go, no place to live.
I had been the one who saved her,
Now I was the one who had to keep her.
Not until the day that her Keeper came to claim her
Did I recognize the feeling in my gut . . . .
I had taken her companionship for granted,
And now she could slip through my grasp,
Like a last breath of air.
He threatened to take her back,
Finish the job in which he started.
But she was mine now,
He had thrown her out,
Like a piece of rotten meat.
She asked one day, "Will you leave,
now that you have your papers?"
"Yes," I replied, "and will you go with me?"
For the first time I saw a smile on her face,
One that, described, is stretching from ear to ear.
Back to Sarmatia, I say, back to both are homelands.
She had no one to go home to, and neither did I,
But we had each other, and that was enough.
We had packed the little I had,
But I was called to the Wall –
A gesture that would soon seal my fate.
Saxons, Lancelot said, come to take the land.
Arthur, bullheaded he is, stayed behind –
He would rather die than see the land we fought for
For so many years go to waste.
I wouldn't fight, no, my time was up.
I was going back to Sarmatia,
Taking her away from a place that
Reminded her of so many bad things,
To get away from the land we had hated so.
But my denial was soon overturned.
"Tristan," she said, "Tristan, I see that
Look in your eyes. You want to stay, don't you?"
I didn't say anything, looking past her, towards the sun.
"I'll take care of him," Gawain promised to her.
"He'll return to you just like he left."
I grumbled an insult as his petty promise.
I knew that I wouldn't, I wouldn't return
To see her off to Sarmatia, off to her home.
"I'll be waiting," she smiled to me,
A false smile it was. She knew too,
But we would never speak of it.
"I'll be waiting," she said again,
Wet, salty tears rolling down her cheeks.
But in the end it was me who would be waiting,
Silently watching her everyday.
Gallahad took her in when I didn't return,
Giving her a home when I couldn't.
I watched her grow in age,
Never looking at a man like she had me.
I hated it, really. I didn't want her to
Live her life as lonely as I once had.
But I hope she knows,
That her existence made me happy.
She had made me smile,
Made a warmth creep in my heart
That hadn't ever before.
So I sit here waiting,
Waiting for her to come back to me,
It won't be so long now. The silver hairs
Entwined with the black, the
Damaged skin and wrinkled hands.
She'll be here soon.