The Hour of the Watch

"Mercy in the dark of night,
Angels are among us.
Say your prayers and keep the faith,
For he has come to save us.
As a cold wind blows,
Nothing grows.
But his mercy flows.

Up from the ground blooms the winter rose."*

Long after the sounds of merriment in the Great Hall were put to bed, long after kit and kin retired to intimate hearths of their own, or...someone else's....I alone walked the streets of this place I now inhabit. Actually it was an improvement on my usual status, as walking.... even if going nowhere....does lend at the very least a change of scenery to the procedure, rather than pacing in a tight circle, my usual state after such an evening.

I wondered....as I wandered....does she know?
Can she not sense some inkling of why I am here, why I show up wherever she is, and make my presence known to her? Surely there are some qualms she has about me, some knock upon the level of wherever her heart is (I would not expect her head), a feeling that something, where I am concerned, where....we....are concerned, that gives her a sense of pause, even if it is only a shadow to her footsteps, an itch beneath her skin that has no visible cause, a queisiness to her stomach that tells her something be amiss, even if she decides to doggedly ignore it? I speak not of the remembrance of actual events, or of me, but that little gnawing feeling that makes the hairs on the back of one's neck stand at attention and clues in the heart that this is a way passed before, this is something to investigate.
Does she have none of that?
For, to be sure, that is how it appears.

I was quite serious when I asked her, then....did she want me to leave, truly. Yet she answered that not, at least, not directly. And I would not, but that it come as a direct order from her, as her utmost wish. If it is to be over, then it is to be over the sooner the better. Let it lie in the past. She seems to have done that fairly well, come to think of it.
It is I who has the difficulty there.
There and somewhere else.
I touched her, I whispered words to her ear, and she bled.
Why does this go on, if truly God wants me to be here, to help her, to love her again?
It happens with no one else. I know, I watched for it. So many she spoke to, so many she touched in passing, and they in turn, her. In passing, in dancing, in standing close by, there were many, both male and female, and of none of them did she have such a harsh reaction. Even as close and prolonged as she stayed in the company of the one called Kalamere, she suffered no ill effects.
Yet I have merely to utter a word, breathe a breath, and she is hurt.
To say I do not understand is simple enough.
To say I will not tolerate it much longer, a hurt of her, even if it means my departure from these lands, never to see my precious Zoee and Zander again, is a conclusion I am fast reaching.
This cannot be for her own good.
And I will not let it continue much longer.

I should not have come.
Correction. I should not have stayed.

It is 3 a.m.
The hour that has meaning all its own.
Some say, the witching hour, others report it as the Hour of the Watch. Whatever anyone's faith calls it, there is but one thing left to do. If, after that, there is no change, then I will know. God will have given me His sign and I will take it as such.

Soon, I will know.
Correction. We all will know.

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*(from the song, "Winter Rose", music and lyrics by Bill Leslie)

And A Little Child Will Lead Them

Psalms 14, a psalm of David...the Folly and Wickedness of Men


The fool hath said in his heart,
There is no God.

They are corrupt,
they have done abominable works,
there is none that doeth good.

The LORD looked down from heaven upon the children of men,
to see if there were any that did understand, and seek God.

They are all gone aside,
they are all together become filthy:
there is none that doeth good, no, not one.

Have all the workers of iniquity no knowledge?
who eat up my people as they eat bread,
and call not upon the LORD.

There were they in great fear:
for God is in the generation of the righteous.

Ye have shamed the counsel of the poor,
because the LORD is his refuge.

Oh that the salvation of Israel were come out of Zion!

When the LORD bringeth back the captivity of his people,
Jacob shall rejoice, and Israel shall be glad.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"She didn't run from you, she was taken. She was too happy, Fate recycled her. Stole her mind.. wiped it all away. Everything. She didn't even know....she was pregnant."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Backed into the darkened corner,
forced to sift through the ashes once again.
He'd been there before.
Another life, another wife, a fire caused by a jealous fate that detroyed happiness.
Sent him into the bottomless pit.
Forsaken by God, forsaken by love, forsaken by a Savior.

Until he walked into her art studio.
She thumbed her nose at Fate and saved him.
And God smiled.

Oh ye man of wicked foolishness.
There is a God, a fitting opponant for Fate.
And all you have to do is believe.
Believe and never let go of hope.
Never let go of....her.

The panther stopped its pacing.
He lay down with the lamb, refusing to fight any longer.
Gave God thanks for the voices of his children,
And slept at last.

"He will not judge by what he sees with his eyes,
or decide by what he hears with his ears;
but with righteousness he will judge the needy,
with justice he will give decisions for the poor of the earth.
He will strike the earth with the rod of his mouth;
with the breath of his lips he will slay the wicked.
Righteousness will be his belt
and faithfulness the sash around his waist.
The wolf will live with the lamb,
the leopard will lie down with the goat,
the calf and the lion and the yearling together;
and a little child will lead them."

Isaiah 11:3-6

There Is No Moon

There is no moon here this night.
It matters not.
I cannot be still.
I pace in circles around the tree which I have claimed as my place of rest in these lands. Correction, God-forsaken lands.
For yet have I to see any resemblence of the Almighty, any reference to a sovereign deity by the....creatures....that I co-habitate with here....wherever here is. Vanessa might at least have told me the ways of things here, rather than just shove me toward that strange, vibrating ring of stones, finger pointing, with a haughty..."That way, lover"....before she vanished in a puff of smoke.
And I thought she liked me.

Could have been worse, I could be stranded alone and on foot, but as fate would have it, smiling on me for once, I was mounted on Duff, although he is not battlewise or as yet trained by my ways, like his sire. Ciardha, ah, but there is a true warhorse! Still, Duff is possessing of a raw and rare fire and strength, a mighty streak of potential to be seen in him, and what have I here, but time on my hands for the instruction he will require of me?
I digress.

Devil's trampling grounds, thats what I am making.
A mess of these bushes, a mess of her life. Nae, she already accomplished that.
She told me once twas not of her doing, mostly.
Fate held her in His mightly clutches, ripping at her heart, gashing at her flesh, churning in her head nightmares instead of allowing her sleep.
How she could only find rest in God's own joined Oneness, head upon my chest, my dreams hers, my breath hers, my peace....hers.
I believed her. Once.

Tonight again I hear likewise, from those gathered around who seem loyal to her, distressed to find her blood where she herself should have been, but no other remnant of her.
Was it her blood, in all truth?
Or merely her craft making them draw conclusions that were not honest?
She is a witch.
Do they not know what that means?
Or has she bewitched even their very sensibilities so they cannot see, hear, taste, feel, understand.....Gabriella.....

There is no god here to curse at, spit at, lay prostrate before in prayer, shaking with the thought of an answer.
I prayed for her. Once.
I cannot be still.
There is no moon here this night.
It matters not.