"Grandmother," said the young girl,
sitting by her side,
"will you tell me that story again,
about how you heard
the unicorn speaking
your name softly carried on the wind."
And she smiled her sad smile
to the child at her side
as she began to tell her story again.
On the island of Skie
There's a glade by a meadow
where the moon hangs very low.
And I was out chasing
the beams of the moon light,
for that night they moved very slow.
When I heard someone calling,
softly by the hillside,
at a place where seldom I'd go.
And his voice was a voice
like the wind in the treetops,
as gently it blew through his mane.
And, wonder of wonders,
the sounds I'd heard spoken
was the sound of him calling my name.
And his call pierced me deep,
like an aching for springtime,
as a moth I was drawn to the flame.
He stood there so proud
like a star in the heavens
reflected in waters so still.
And stalking so gently,
I entered his glade,
my hands reaching out to feel,
his power and beauty,
calling so softly,
my heart in a nightingale's reel.
And the unicorn's breath
was like sweet grass in fallow
and his eyes where of liquid brown.
His coat was the color
of the moon in the water,
as he stood there not making a sound.
And his horn caught the light
like the snowfall in winter
which has fallen fresh to the ground.
But, his eyes held the ages
of life in the making
and its ending of days as well
and we spoke in a language
beyond mortal words
like light from a fountaining well
How long we were there
sharing in wonder
maybe, a year, or a minute, to tell.
At a sound from behind me
he was gone from my sight
and his going, it cut me like shears
and my mother there found me
with my hands reaching out
my sorrow expressed by my tears.
like the mist in the meadow
and his call would last through the years
Grandmother, said the child
nestled in her shoulder
do you think you'll ever see him again?
No, said the woman,
I don't think I shall
for, you see, I have grown old as the wind.
I have been married
and raised children to parents
and the moonbeams move faster than then.
The child seemed so sad
to the woman there waving
as she left to go to her home
That the old woman... cried
to her self in the moonlight
and her longing escaped as a moan
For a long while she stayed, standing
alone by the front gate,
then set out walking down the road.
And, as she was walking
alone in the moonlight,
she stopped, at the sound of her name;
and ignoring the age
that had hardened her heart
she ran off the road to the glade
though her chest felt like fire
crushing her arms
she ran on ignoring the pain.
And she found him there shining,
in his glade by the meadow,
the wind caressing his mane.
could not help but reach out
, though, she could not breathe for the pain.
Yet her joy was so strong,
as she fell to the ground,
hearing him calling her name.
And the unicorn bent,
over her face in the meadow,
and blew his sweet breath on her face.
In awe she lay watching,
as her pain fell away
and the world seemed to fall into haze.
"Where did you go,"
she asked of him, sadly,
"why leave me alone in this place?"
"I never have left,"
he said to her softly
"nor did I stop calling your name.
But you left for the world,
though I stood right before you,
you thinking your loss was my blame.
So I've stood here in waiting
for the time you'd return
looking for an end to your pain."
And like a dream she had dreamt
and found in the waking,
she stood and took his head in her hands
and crying her joy
she kissed his proud face
as they turned leaving footprints in sand...
Diarmid
copyright 1997