Sonnet 07/05/02           Bhean Sidhe                 DCLXXXVIII


It was an odd noise that I heard, this night:
Not quite a scream, but far more than a gasp,
From moonless darkness, with no stars in sight.
What is this coldness, that my insides clasp?
Why do I weaken, hearing sound so far
Only the echo reaches ear, yet mind
Is twisted from intent? How can I bar
Gates of imagination, to wyrd bind?
I fall, boneless with fright, and sweat breaks out;
Bowels turn to water with despair. I weep,
To lose all. I moan, but cannot give shout
To more than whimper, nor my reason keep.
She passes, and I live! Yet dare not rise
For fear of seeing Death within her eyes.