Time for our Loving to be Loved

Thumbnail image respectfully lifted from Patrick Benson’s illustrations for North: the Amazing Story of Arctic Migration by Nick Dowson

There is something in here that I can’t resist so I won’t put away my instrument quite yet. I confess I’ve been quite a monster. That is to say that I can sense the monster in me. I’m not going to say it’s mine anymore. I’ve spent my time saying it’s mine. It’s high time that those who did the crimes face this monster of mine.

I don’t mind being the one to love. I don’t mind that you’re above me. I don’t mind what I’ve taken onboard as mine. I’ve done my part, and it has done its part, to take the elements to another shape. To take these shapes into another place, to take all the places back up to your face. Where the stars smell like flowers, and we’re filled with watery powers. I can take these little rocks with me, I’ll take as many as I can. I don’t mind it, in a way I’m made for it. I don’t mind it at all.

But there comes a time, when things must be truthful at last. There comes a time when things that cannot hold must come to pass, when bindings that were old fall apart at last. So I’m not going to get in your way, I’m not going to take the blame. I’m not going to play the game you’ve played, not going to let you run away leaving your burdens on me, while you escape with the loot, making off in the woods, like the bandit that you are.

I used to like the band of merry men and the gorgeous maids marian, the marian singers. The marian waters. Marian singers, the marian bringers, and the merry men, and the hooded ones, and their merry band. And their forest home and their songs of home and their lore.

When the false shows up, when the false king is up, his time is up, when the false king’s time is up, when the new king comes up, time is up when the old king comes home, to take his throne. The deceiver is dethroned, the deceiver must go home.

There are those who hold the catharine, there are those who hold aquamarine, there are those who sing the songs of green, there are who hold the evergreen, there are those who wrote the words down and held that in their hearts, there are those who gathered wild grasses and made poultices, there are those who house the knowledge of the earth, and its healing songs. There are those who have held it so long.

This is the time for our sisters and brothers. This is the time for our fathers and mothers. This is the time for our loving of others. This is the time that ends all time. This is the time for our love to be loved. This is the time for our loving to be loved.