Goodbye old friend
I wanted to tell a story about huskies from Chukchi lore (the tribe that have been breeding snow dogs for 3000 years) and have looked into a few obscure myths, but the detail is scanty and my ability to create is at an all-time low (and it was never that high to start with). I include below a poem for him, which unfortunately uses rather forced rhyme due to my inability to come up with anything better. It is followed by another poem written to commemorate Gwynn by Terry Stannard-Smith.
For my Boy Gwynn
Blue the eyes that held
my heart,
Closed now – darkness veils
with sleep,
How long shall we be
apart,
Till once more our
meeting keep?
Your empty bed now
grows chill,
The lead unused needless
swings,
Yet you walk at my side
still,
Passing to the Hall of
Kings.
Your fur is everywhere,
Memories in corners
heaped.
Licks and hugs no more
to share,
Your ghost shall remain
unsweeped.
My wolf runs in the
Wildwood,
Velvet ears keen, eyes
hunt-honed.
His fierce heart drums,
all is good.
To us such proud beasts
are loaned.
Return he must when
pack calls,
Paw prints from me do
not fade.
Without his heat,
winter falls
And now everything
palls
Till bright eyes and a
cold nose
Bounce back the spring;
wagging tail
And hot breath melts
sorrow’s snow –
The Healer’s hand
cannot fail.
For Gwyn (by Terry Stannard-Smith)
Candles are
lit and words are said,
Mead is
drunk as deeds are read.
With love we
remember,
With love we
recall,
The soul
that has passed,
To the
ancestral hall.
And so
through our tears’
In the dark
night of grief
From a life
far too brief,
We lay you to
rest.
Journey well
dearest friend,
May your way
always good,
Be filled
with adventures,
Fine food,
doggy treats.
You will
always be with me,
In my heart
and my home.
You will
always be with me,
Till my own
life be done.
Then
together again,
Fine walks we
will share,
We will have
grand adventures,
Good food,
finest fare.
Until that
day happens,
my heart is
your home,
by my side
you’ll be with me,
in all that
life shares.
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