37. Faramir's Lament
~Faramir's Lament ~
Brother, you fell much too hard.
You should really have been more careful.
Surely you knew I was standing below
and thought I could catch you
but you have crushed me flat.
I thought I could bear your weight
but the slivers of your dying
cut too cruelly into my already riddled center.
You took too much from me,
now how can I possibly rise
with you lying on me so?
How can I stand up to view
your quiet face, your crossed arms
and sing your stifled usefulness
and pierced beauty, when every particle
of my being insists on being
muffled in your might?
Would that grief could be
as limited as the flesh,
as impotent as tears, as tender
as the air between our eyes
when we looked our farewells
in unknowing finality!
Would that arrows could sing
the downfall of pain
when all drugs and prayers fail
and that the heart could be
as small as life
as closed as death
and as bitter as lessons
in the art of mortality;
then, perhaps I could push
your inert reality away and
reassemble the fragments
into the man I was meant to be
before your stilled splendor drifted
with deceptive lightness
and pinned me down to poverty.
My roofless heart is now your vault;
I contain you, and have no more room
for my own sweet furnishings
until you have dissolved
leaving me vacant
and utterly exposed.
Brother, you fell much too hard.
You should really have been more careful.
Surely you knew I was standing below
and thought I could catch you
but you have crushed me flat.
I thought I could bear your weight
but the slivers of your dying
cut too cruelly into my already riddled center.
You took too much from me,
now how can I possibly rise
with you lying on me so?
How can I stand up to view
your quiet face, your crossed arms
and sing your stifled usefulness
and pierced beauty, when every particle
of my being insists on being
muffled in your might?
Would that grief could be
as limited as the flesh,
as impotent as tears, as tender
as the air between our eyes
when we looked our farewells
in unknowing finality!
Would that arrows could sing
the downfall of pain
when all drugs and prayers fail
and that the heart could be
as small as life
as closed as death
and as bitter as lessons
in the art of mortality;
then, perhaps I could push
your inert reality away and
reassemble the fragments
into the man I was meant to be
before your stilled splendor drifted
with deceptive lightness
and pinned me down to poverty.
My roofless heart is now your vault;
I contain you, and have no more room
for my own sweet furnishings
until you have dissolved
leaving me vacant
and utterly exposed.
This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.
