Bone of Song

Just where it now lies I can no longer say

I found it on a cold and November day

In the roots of a sycamore tree where it had hid so long

In a box made out of myrtle lay the bone of song

The bone of song was a jawbone old and bruised

And worn out in the service of the muse

And along its sides and teeth were written words

I ran my palm along them and I heard

Lucky are you who finds me in the wilderness

I am the only unquiet ghost that does not seek rest

The words on the bone of song were close and small

And though their tongues were dead I found I knew them all

In the hieroglyphs of quills and quatrain lines

Osiris—the fall of Troy—Auld Lang Syne

Kathleen Mauvoreen—Magnificat—Your Cheatin' Heart

The chords of a covenant king singing for the Ark

Then I saw on a white space that was left

A blessing written older than the rest

It said leave me here I care not for wealth or fame

I'll remember your song – but I'll forget your name

The words that I sang blew off like the leaves in the wind

And perched like birds in the branches before landing on the bone again

Then the bone was quiet it said no more to me

So I wrapped it in the ribbons of a sycamore tree

And as night had come I turned around and headed home

With a lightness in my step and a song in my bones

Lucky are you who finds me in the wilderness

I am the only unquiet ghost that does not seek rest