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Bear Skin
(© Matilda Marks)

The warrior before me
like so many others left dead.
Faces young and old;
bodies limp, drenched in red.

I don the skin upon my back;
the beast I now embrace.
Rage contorts and twists
forgotten features of my face.

Frenzy grips my beastly soul;
gnaws the depths of my mind.
As I gnaw upon my shield
and in madness I grow blind.

I growl through teeth clenched tight;
sounds low and gutteral to hear.
And in the young eyes before me,
I watch the swell of fear.

Pray to your gods my young one.
Pray it will be quick.
As this beast roars toward you
through the battle thick.

Prey for the edge of my sword;
my blade devoures without care.
But something in my victim changes
and my blade tastes only air.

Sweat and the stink of blood;
the blur of swirling blue.
My opponent smiles fiendishly.
So it is finally you....

Shapeshifter - Old One;
shadowed cavern of your eye.
Glinting spear in hand;
so it is time for me to die.

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Last Update: Friday, August 12, 2005