The Fountain of Saint Sebastian
Artwork by Yarek Godfrey
The Fountain of Saint Sebastian
Conspired nightmares cloaked in glory;
Waved battle banners; hung bestowed ribbons:
Medallion cordage for hang-man’s hawser.
Act I: The Prince
Quixotic in bloodline heir secured fortress kingdom,
Sovereign of serf wishing well his sortie,
Knight-errant his maxim: Deus Misereatur
His Noble Lord Hail! Heard from high harness.
Beloved Sebastian, save his Saint namesake,
On quest for God’s chosen His country and truth.
Devout in His purpose from pious church deference,
Benedictions in sermon sprung psalms up inside him.
A noted church elder renowned as a prophet,
Came forth with a presage portend to soul-sanctum:
The seer said sounds, surreal and hypnotic,
Clattered warring sounds, the hidden magic of metal,
Would sickle through sanity to sense swindle mores.
Being born of flame and mill-beaten violence,
Hammer clanged iron would brand mark its fervor.
Forewarned of war madness, he firmed down his sallet,
Clutched tightly sage Psalter and steadfast his valor.
Act II: The Battle
Potential usurpers, free and untethered,
Would-be seizures of Zion, base scoundrels all,
Had conscripted an army poised for king conquest.
Low-brow attackers matched well-borns on highland.
Marched on until midday, a meadow too placid
For royal line foray swung into full opus:
Battling drums droned out blow beating dolor.
Barbed arrows sung of bow bending splendor
(Proud whistles of wood loosed of world woe!)
Harrowing shrieks sounded on the assault,
The front of the siege frauding back of the mind.
Broadswords in bicker backhanding blood honor
Their gauntlet-forced gambits grew hot foughten fields!
Brown leather scabbards, side lancet sheathing,
Hind quarters lashed in riding crop rhythm.
Bridle reins squeaked under leash bit straining,
As violin strings strummed over raised horsehair,
Heavy bound headstalls too taut for the heat.
Black bleating destriers, plumed shafrons all bowing,
Strapped clappers a hoofing, foot soldiers a’howling,
Steel scorched, the wind weeping rain tears set cloud bursting:
All heart song deceivers!
Those harkened below,
Once betwixt the blade skirmish, endured of state slaughter,
Heaps of reaped soldiers lay hugged by rose heather.
The southern based forces, battalion bereft,
Succumbed to the struggle, sought truce with the ruler,
Champion of principle, counsel of peace.
A war-lording captain appeared lone to his captor,
Resigned of rank failure while flanked from all sides.
Victory as splendid as raised gladiator shields shining
Like looking glass mirrors encircling the moor
Made head turn his majesty vaulted chevrons in heed.
Magnified and magnific met he in the middle.
The hot metal amalgam of tinned music harshness
Amid blue blooded killing had bubbled to vertex
At quartered arms salute. Cool quintessence quickened.
Vulgar auricle assassins drowned divine affirmations
As quiet church reverence reversed and commuted.
Inner ear incantations incited chest palpitations:
Heart pounded out pauldrons proved soul’s quid pro quo.
The credulous believing captain, bent downward in capitulation,
Word genuine, his oath extended, paid lord homage, genuflected,
Exoneration at Lord’s behest ex aequo et bono,
Solemnly requested. Awaited he reprieve with
Rosaries and reverence, reassured the Romanistic view
Would vindicate: Veritas Vos Liberabit.
Act III: The Confrontation
Hanging in ceremony, rare heirloom jeweled hipsword,
A firstling cross forged unfoibled and flawless,
Glinted while twirling, gibed lethal last glimpse.
Sprung forth without forethought, slashed forward sleight fisted
A flash of lives twain flicked out in an instant!
The neive-weilding weapon ran wanton while captain
Reared back from his kneeling relieved of his caput.
The ruse of reason, so rational, so sure,
Yet easily offhanded overpowered, overthrown
By officious natures now come uncovered.
Such original instincts odious and forgotten
Mock their lucid creel, make men recant, befouled.
His headship had severed from he deep within:
Held sway his heart’s merit now held lone his knife.
Stealth jongleurs of soul jeopardy
Inverted vae victis to vae victor
Foresaken faith apogee had turned antipode’s favor.
Archfiend released when he saw whose hand held it,
Doused in the pool whence displayed his deceit,
Pictured the man now mirage of this wetland
Blade grazed above dazed eyes held agape.
In that ash swirl of visage and vision
As ripples retreated and all became still,
He continued his stare blank countenance unchanged
As both sword and vexations emerged from the shallows.
There, the pallid haunt that did pierce him
Lay plain face to face: so familiar that image,
Obscured middlemost, mirrored life likeness,
Beamed bronze, red, and blue, brow baptized and blessed,
Saber swung to-and-fro, crown ready and schooled,
Blade bent hoaxed the tarn, headmost of his homeland
Found his forehead steel stuck and forever scythe sealed.
The clerical prophecy of stigmata cursed steel,
Birthmarked in pain amid bellows of peal,
Had remembered its promise to imprint a proxy.
Within the sultry twilight where skulking shadows swell
Amid quills of sunlit rays lay captured the sheer aura.
Mad silence was split. Still army surrounded
Bedeviled mind bedlam beleaguered their leader:
What hell-diesinker, damnable engraver,
Inscribed his diesis upon thy doomed brow?
Ribald bloody, rebus! Rage of thy heart song!
Plague on thy soul! Shame of thy namesake!
…. Courage Sebastian. Assemble a council.
Act IV: Summit at the Castle
Send for physicians, skilled surgeons,
Healers of every sort. Summon scholars,
Philosophers, physiognomists,
Thaumaturgists, theurgists,
Apothecaries and alchemists!
Extract a mind philter from lamp-fueled alembics and
Expunge this dread ore with their distilled chelate oils.
Swathe a sconce poultice, a pinna-pacified physic,
Applied under whispers of fey wonder workers.
Ward off the sword shrillness, the tom-toms and war whoops
And drown out the demons that dance to their din!
Clairvoyants among you invoke a catharsis.
See what I’ve seen; trace back every step:
Bestride bridle paths, revisit the bloodshed,
Recount our triumph, then reroute me rightly;
Bridge this debacle and bring me back home.
No bridges were built and no swaddled bolsters.
No antidotes founds to assuage this furor.
I shall go back myself to brace my beginning.
Act V: The Fountain
Heaven transfixed, false hearted, and faith helixed,
Standing Kris dagger riven and dark crimson cleaved,
He heard his heart’s clamor thrust off his blood armor
And prayed to be clean: I call upon the patron
And the symbol of my faith: Fellow soldier, strength spirit,
Whose name I share and who knows all too well
The taste of a steely tip; O, praised servant of God,
Redeemer of pestilence, defender of the persecuted,
Does the sacrament flow from your baptismal font?
Can your waters cool that which cannot be tempered?
Is the promise of restoration proved with each skyward surge?
Then spout merciful salvation thou martyr blessed fountain!
Betimes seek divine intercession, Saint Sebastian.
GLOSSARY OF TERMS
Preface
Hawser – a large rope used for towing
Act I
Deus Misereateur- God be merciful
Sallet – medieval helmet
Act II
Gauntlet – a medieval glove
Foughten – a fighting scene
Headstall – the part of the bridle that encompasses the head
Destrier – a war horse
Shaffron – head defense for a horse
Pauldron – shoulder armor
Quid pro quo – one thing in return for another
Ex aequo et bono – according to the principle of fairness and good
Veritas vos liberabit – truth will liberate you
Act III
Jongleur – a medieval entertainer
Vae victis – woe to the vanquished
Vae victor – woe to the victor
Apogee – the highest or most distant point
Antipode – a direct or exact opposite
Tarn – a small mountain lake or pool
Scythe – a long curved blade
Diesinker – an engraver of dies for stamping or embossing
Diesis – the mark of the double dagger used in printing
Ribald – irreverent, mocking, or abusive speech
Rebus – an enigmatic representation of a word or phrase by pictures or symbols
Act IV
Physiognomist – one who determines a person’s character from the features of the face
Thaumaturgist – one who works wonders or miracles
Theurgist – one who uses a system of magic aided from communication with deities
Apothecary – a druggist; a pharmacist
Alchemist – one who practices the art which sought to transmute baser metals into gold, find a universal solvent, and find the elixir of life
Philter – a magic potion
Alembic – a vessel used for distilling, transforming, purifying, or refining
Chelate – to use a binding agent to remove heavy metals
Swathe – to wrap a bandage
Sconce – the head or skull
Poultice – a soft, moist mass of herbs applied as a medicine
Pinna – the auricle of the ear
Physic – a medicine that purges
Kris dagger – a prized asymmetrical dagger noted for its wavy blade
Vestiges
Two more unlit candles
Glazed evening din upon my head
Still resound of grievous misgiving:
Gestate quarrels fluttering for firelight.
Of this wicked gray, only Hamlet learned well,
When night, fortune’s mistress, bore him a specter,
Guarding Cimmerian secrets that dare eclipse
Your quiet, planted gaze or subtlety of breath.
Usurped fathers or deceiving devils, shadows
Guilloched by tangles of desire and veiled memory
May forget which they are in time, but still
Demand vengeance in that same sepulchral voice:
The final fade of a distant cathedral dirge,
Orisons driven frantic with hastened decay.
Poor testimony to compel a lithic duty,
Rich with consequence, darkness waiting.
Only Hamlet thought it through,
Though feared unpregnant of his cause,
Perhaps a coward, white rage burning,
And time an angry temptress. To him,
Occult conundrums came uncovered
And revealed a sleeper’s ear envenomed,
To catch the conscience of the King.
Stealth mutes delivered their poison
As softly as your footfalls
That also paced unnoticed,
Leaving their own mysteries:
Trace impressions from each day’s dying,
Spiraling hermetically, scythe hooked
Like a thousand unasked questions.
These apparitions of life
Tracking just behind my shoulder
Over lacquered pine long since void of sunlight
And slabbed head to toe as galley slaves,
Combing over Persian rugs
That fingers loomed madly,
Gathering their resolve one year at a time,
Reached out beneath my instep:
Another quiet killing.
Kings
In a vassal’s life, labor is strife.
He empties his bags to the seam,
Only to ensure another day’s tenured fife,
For this is the Feudalist’s dream.
The plow shear can but till the land
And not crack a wall a wall of stone.
While the sword that stills eager young wills
Is cradled high upon the throne.
Forged by flame, forged by man,
Their blades reap only silence across the land.
No wind nor root nor nest,
The castle walls forever stand.
Times bewitched and bewildered,
War and love to be wed,
With funerals for the living
And praises for the dead.
The battlement alignments
Shield the source of rapier’s sting.
The mightiest of all God’s servants:
Therein lies the King.
To keep the peace eternal
Thousands fought and died.
Royal hearts too busy pounding
To let their screams inside.
For each hears only the whispers of his God.
Each carries The Word on his chest.
There is no fear of retribution.
All is forgiven in the name of righteousness.
As I look back on our Medieval times,
Caught amongst the roaring thunder:
I see a bearded man with bloodied sword in hand
And my mind slowly begins to wonder…
When perched upon a marbled throne
Wearing crown and steel and Word
Will I be any less noble
When I have come to wield the sword?
Blue Series #3
artwork by deborha d'arms
Vestibule
Sleep
And know that I have always been here
As wraith memories of worlds since perished
Following you through universes of night:
How you swam through Saturn’s rings
Pale skin turned platinum wave crescents
Riptides of passion carving round ivory shorelines
Eyes dripping indigo infinity;
Slowly savored the hell-fires of Mercury,
Vermillion and sweet as wine,
Though it burned your mouth and throat
Into coal-ash glowing crimson;
Watched as a pharaoh’s sacrificial dagger
Pierced the curve of your quickened breast,
Pleased the marbled face of Amun-Ra,
Ribbons of devotion striped the sand sepia;
Hushed as you circled the black crocus over your lover’s lips
Slick with honeydew, glistening like stars, old as scripture
And breathed into his ear, “Be still, the darkness comes for you”
That he would know nameless surrender
Oceans of time swell and crash within your skull.
Whirlwinds of blood-sand behind eyes gone lavender,
Shadow legions at your shoulder, flame tridents on your tongue,
Dark treasures you dismiss as dream beg you:
“Wake and cast lost miracles back into the very light
That spurned and cursed them,
Dumbed the groans of their embrace.”