With gold upon my hand by Carin Marais


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No rings for me will be gifted,
No gold to laden upon my grave,
No rings upon the bed given
No gold for one clean of battle-rain.
Here I have lived for sixty years
Here my blood has toiled
Here I lie and await the dawn,
Here with no gold upon my hand.
Listen to the night-birds singing their calls
Listen to the owl calling my name
Listen to the sound of far-flung battles
Listen to the sound of falling rain.
One breath I have left in my breast,
One breath to lighten my step
One breath to gather my sword
One breath to face the rain.
No rings for them will be gifted
No gold left for their graves
No gold for those upon the dancing ground
No gold for those drowned in the battle-rain.
Here I have fought my last breath still
Here I have claimed my stake
Here the ring-giver will salute me
Here I will receive gold upon my hand.
Listen to the laughter in the halls
Listen to them calling my name
Listen to the stillness of peace
Listen to the sound of falling rain.
One ring I have upon my arm
One ring to lighten my step
One ring and I can lay down my sword
One ring and I can have rest.