Keeping the Fire: Three Poems

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Knight Luminary Coralm,

You had requested an example of my work towards refuting the First Poet. I could go on at great length in such a task but I have sought to do so without relying to heavily on stylistic patterns to differentiate authors as style can be placed in doubt and authors tend to play with works they never intend to be told. I promise I will endeavor to be brief. The three poems below are collected in the Horn and Ivory book, so called for it's cover's construction, that dates to around 600 to 580 DA. It is was reworked into the Khaobi Mishö Djan, the seminal book of poetry of Westa Proper. The Book of Horn and Ivory is oldest attempt to collect Djasho's works in one place. Here is the first poem.

A river fathomless; stepped and folded like cloth.

These stone hands clasp; Hide their many secrets.

Fertile water’s course; this relentless summit.

Oh countless blessings. 


You will think this was the poem read by Djaught Mehethe, but his shows subtle differences, seeming less direct in it's delivery. This poem was said to have been written by Djasho and while I can't find much to dispute that, the fact that this Djaught's tablet and the Horn and Ivory version both exist suggests that there were many versions of this poem. More importantly the Stone Hands in this version is a play on words for the pronunciation of Fortress Edgar in the Djashar which wasn't spoken in such a form until the Classical period about a hundred years after this poem was supposedly written. I doubt Djasho was a foreteller and doubt doubly that she would only use such a gift to make puns no one would get for a century or more. Here is the second poem, said to have been written at the same time as the first.

Ah, too soon, growing dawn, you thief to steal my stars,

Ah, too soon, singing thrush, you Djaught calling orders

Ah, too soon, hard east wind, you curse me into my day

Let this silence last.

This poem is in the Khaobishar, and I can't translate it into Eddinite very well. The language is simple, the narrator showing anger that they should have to leave the blessed beauty and silence of night. Both of these fit Djasho's common style and unrelenting love for, and wonder at, nature. and the poem can be like a song, one person saying the first half, others the second. There are two problems with it. The first is that the “me” used is male. The second is that this poem is purported to have been written in Twentieth Year after the Migration, or about DA 770 but the title of Djaught was outright created one hundred and seventy years later at the Hava Council circa DA 600. Two blows against a single First Poet, but I have a third.


Cries borne before their wings; Routs of geese sweep past.

A long awaited return; my secreted hope.

Now herald it openly; bear it with my voice.

Summer calls again.

A final poem from the Horn and Ivory collection also attributed to Djasho at the same time, and in fact all on the same day, Highsummer. This talks of the migrating geese that come in great flocks along the west coast. It also has the 11/11/11/5 Hani style we expect to see in a classic Westin poem. The problem is that his poem is from the Vihen Mishösha written in DA433. A Minister added it to the Horn and Ivory so as to accuse the author of the Vihen of plagiarism, discredit her, and in turn weaken her patron. It worked, but the truth was uncovered by the Minister's great great granddaughter when she confessed all of her family secrets prior to taking on the rank of Priestess of Iiss.

There is a final note about this poem that shows it's more recent age and I think is important to remember in our current struggle. This poem has a “true reading,” a hidden meaning derived by reading every other phrase. In other words reading five syllables, skipping eleven, reading five skipping six. You can get a second and different meaning by reading the parts you skipped. In this case it shows that the poem is actually about expressing a secreted love to a friend who has been long absent. I only mention it because of the value of knowing a True Reading. Historically generals would hide their messages in this way, buried amid an otherwise unimportant seeming letter. Most commoners couldn't read the true reading or catch the subtle references to other poems that might hint at the general's real message. I suspect, Comae, that we shall see many hidden intents in the days to come.

May you walk with the People,

- Luminary Polena

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