Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter characters or concepts. I write for fun not my finances.
Notes: Written after the epic style of Beowulf but with considerably less length.
Ode to a Fallen Warrior
Listen: for she was bold and brave
who flew alight on winds of older days that
seem not so far away. Come through from the storm
our world has fallen through its stupor
to rise up
again.
The old rickety cupboards of an old dusty shop.
For long she sat
atop a perch of some unnamed wood and watched the people
come and leave.
That ugly cat as it purred and growled
and stalked the shadows in the late afternoon.
The rats as they spun
in their wheels and trickled tricks to tickle the customers.
Never an odd motion for attention made she. Never
flashing her plumage more than was
necessary
for pruning.
For hers was a destiny greater. And animals have
a deeper
sense of things than we.
Through the door came a bearded man
whose stature intimidated even the flat faced cat. She
did not flinch away, but turned a round full gaze
and stared.
Gloves reached up to the perch and grabbed
with leather certainty. She sufficed to be lifted and shut inside
a wire cage to be handed
to the smiling giant and his booming vocals.
And out into the chaos of the world
with its boisterous children and endless conversations
she was carried
to the boy with the emerald eyes and onyx hair.
Listen: for these are the tales of loyalty,
of harsh winds swept down from the cold night of teenage troubles.
Of worldly problems on the shoulders
of a boy.
Of friendship that soars, through windows and trees
under suns and moons
and the follies of a 'disease'
called 'human.'
Who knew a man of dirty clothes
and dirty past with innocent eyes? And flew alongside
a hippogriff? A long and straining flight from castle to hideaway
to carry a letter back to a lonely boy.
Who sat with head titled through long summer nights?
Watching nightmares after the dirty man had gone, but that still
bore his face, and spoke his name.
They say time is endless.
They say men are wise, who know whether to build their houses
upon the rock or the beach. But who
can see both before the tide comes in?
Listen: for she was brave and bold,
and these are tales of loyalty. Who flew
alight the harsh winds
swept down from older days.
On the wing, beside broomsticks, she looked down
on her boy. His onyx hair afire with wind
and emerald eyes awash with fear.
Defenseless
and young.
For time is wise and foolish men endless.
Crisscrossing the night
in star-like streaks of light darted the daggers of
swift coming death. She dipped, who flew, and plummeted,
who sat through long summer nights
and then knew nothing
who had known the dirty man, with the dirty past
whose innocent eyes perhaps she now sees
again.
Listen: for often she sang,
for often she was silent. Dear Hedwig
whose wings were clipped by foolish men
was caught by wise old time.
Listen: for riding the wings now of a sea breeze
who once rode the wind rushing cold
the silence and song of a warrior gone:
for brave was she, and loyal, and bold.