Last night I lost my brothers.
I hid beneath a heather bush,
amongst the purple flowers,
and waited until their footfalls died.
When the moon came out,
I ran away for good.
Stealing through the picket fence and rushes
I undid the buckles and dropped my armour.
I buried my gun, my sins, my photographs.
And sliding down the sand dunes,
I waded into the murky bed of the sea.
I let the salt water rise around me.
Last night I watched the birds
but told them to stay away.
I needed to escape,
I needed to meet my end.
Last night I told the stars to go away
and can you believe it?
They listened.
Last night I hoped to meet my end
But last night you followed me.
And saved me from the whirlwind of peril,
With the spell of your strong fingers.
And alas, the burning grip of a loyal friend
saved me from the ranks of angry brothers,
From the guns of Easter and the songs of Winter,
from a certain tragic end.

