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I see battles

I see battles.

The moment I close my eyes, they start raging inside my head.
Swords cling, shields splint and break, spears pierce the air.

I see battles.

Ancient and new, bloody and unsung, battles for and battles against. Battles of glory, battles of grief, battles of despair.

I see battles.

Voices and hatred, horses and fear, bodies wallowing in blood. Battles with no hope, battles without end.

I see battles.

Limbs torn, skin slashed, heads rolling on the crimson snow. Crows cawing, crying for more. Battles of no escape, battles of gore. Battles of men.

I see battles.

A rider charges through, his steed black as the night. His sword slashes the way through the fighting men. His eyes flash, his voice rises above the tumult and strife.

I see battles.

Men feel his presence. They fall like grass under the scythe, their eyes wide open. The bull of the battle. The crow of the battlefield. Ap Nudd.

I see battles.

Everywhere. One battle or many- what does it matter, I know I shall die. Today, tonight, tomorrow, when they bind me and torment me. I shall die. All men die.

I see battles.

The end is nigh. I hear the voice cry out my name. Blood drips from my wounded forehead, blood covers my eyes. I fall, my hands numb, my throat dry.

I see darkness.

The voice chants the names of the fallen and they rise. His voice, the voice of death. They fell still doubting. They fell with no faith in them, he says. And I know I shall live.

I see fire.

He is protected, The voices whisper. He is of mighty gods. No one else survived the battle. Leave him, let him live. He is of mighty gods.

I see pain.

My pain, the pain in my broken arm, my hurting back. Someone has cleaned my wounds and dressed them. Someone is trying to feed me.

I see hope.

In a year they let me go. Snow is blinding me but I find my way back home. Staggering, stumbling, with battle still raging inside, I walk up to the hall. My last strength goes into opening the doors of the hall.

I see fire.

Men are feasting inside. Vain and arrogant in the knowing of their safety. They look at me. Incredulous, they gasp in horror. They ask me my name.

I answer.

The raven voice, hoarseand broken wings its way through the hall. Pallor discolors their faces. They think me risen from the dead.

Aneirin ydw i
a dwi’n canu eto.
canaf, ac ni ddaw un gân arall oddi wrthyf.

Aneirin ydw i
ac yr wyf yn canu
o’r llwfrgwn, bradwyr a brenhinoedd.
Rwy’n canu eglwys gadeiriol.

y frwydr yw fy nghân, oherwydd ni all unrhyw gân arall leddfu fy mhoen.

Aneirin ydw i, a dywedaf wrthych am Cathraeth.

canys dyna oedd fy margen
ag gwyn ap nudd

[I’m Aneirin
and I’m singing again.
I will sing, and no other song will come from me.

I’m Aneirin
and I sing
of the cowards, traitors and kings.
I sing cathedral.

the battle is my song, because no other song can ease my pain.

I’m Aneirin, and I’ll tell you about Cathraeth.

for that was my bargain
with gwyn ap nudd]

Published by aneuringwynn

Tarot master, channeler, awenydd and writer

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