Chapter 52

Rebuilding


It came to be, that merfolk peoples,

Inhabited, the spires and steeples,

Of the Giant’s sunken Island,

And did rename the former dry land,

The mermaid city, “Poepigrandia”,

After princess Poepilandia.

The blacksmith too, stayed behind,

Upon the shores, and helped design,

A brand new city, and a port,

And called it, “Perlagrandia”, in sort,

As Poepigrandia’s sister city,

Out of honor and of pity.

Poepi stayed on with the Smith,

As service plans were made forthwith,

And shared the painful burdens weighed,

As all respects to dead were paid.

At the funeral for the fallen,

Speaking sensitive, and sullen,

Smith addressed the massing herds,

With these heartfelt spoken words:

“There are again now mini giants,

Fighting themselves, and us, defiant,

And we must make it, come to pass

That never again, will they surpass,

The checks and balance we instill,

Lest they chain us to their will.

This pledge we owe, to all that died,

To keep their passing dignified.”

And thereafter, the blacksmith went,

To one marked grave, and minutes spent,

Sitting quiet, in thought and talk,

Remembering his loving walks,

Before the Giant’s tyranny,

With his wife Persephony.

As for Poepilandia,

She searched all Perlagrandia,

But her sister, never she found,

And knew not if she came to ground.

For no sure sign, had mermaids seen,

Of the princess, Perlameen.

Still every day, she searched the beach,

Scanning the waves, studying each,

But saw no trail, or trace, or sound,

That Perla ever washed aground.

Though Smith would not let it be said,

Most everyone, thought Perla dead,

Including Poepi, whose greatest guilt,

Was that the calls and curses spilt,

As they had fought and scratched and bled,

Between them, were, their last words said.

At night her guilt and pain long lingered,

Upon the beach and through her fingers,

While she gripped and beat the sands,

Grieving fists and wringing hands,

Until Twelve months from death of Gar,

Face a frown, and eyes, a-far,

Poepi bid her friends goodbye,

With one long hug, and one long cry,

Leaving elves with smith, to stay,

Who wished to see, a brand new day,

And share their elvish skills around,

Wherever need for them be found.

Her shoulder pixie also stayed,

And far from sea she never strayed,

Grieving for her pixie sister,

Able to do naught, but miss her.

Her time with Poepi was at end,

And though she was, still Poepi’s friend,

The pixie’s heart, could not depart,

For she too sought, a brand new start.

Thus, Poepi’s Quest came to its end.

Did it succeed? Well that depends,

On how you see her deeds, my friend.

It’s not for me to tell you, here,

Whether they were just, or queer.

It is for you, to judge the cost,

Of what she gained, from what she lost.

And setting out from bend to bend,

Alone and free, without a friend,

She left one night, when lights were low,

Just ahead of falling snow,

Departing home, for Islegrove,

Without a wander, or, a rove.

Looking last, at Perlagrandia,

She  wished Couragah, and Poepigrandia,

Her love, and hoped, to see them again,

But doubted she would, since it was plain,

That they had much to do here yet,

In many years of toil and sweat.

Couragah herself did not talk long,

For in her breasts, her guilt of wrongs,

Still haunted her, and made her weep,

So that she dove, down to the deeps,

Swimming to the sunken city,

Looking upon its spires, with pity,

Sad for all the ones who there,

Like Perlameen, had lost their air.

As Blacksmith watched his Poepi go,

He felt a mix of joy and woe,

Thinking fond of all the times,

That he had sung her, children’s rhymes.

Poepi traveled day by day,

Seeing sights along the way.

Walking home along the roads,

Stopping at inns, and many abodes,

And when she reached the western sea,

She saw the captain, and, where he,

Kept his new built fishing boat,

Moored when not at work afloat,

And dined on it, with him as well,

Rocking gently in ocean’s swell.

He had not changed one single bit,

Upon his deck, looking fit,

Still a-chase the schools of fish,

Living simple as he wished.

And when he asked her of the gem,

She pulled it forth and looked at him,

Putting it down, into his palm,

Feeling light and oddly calm.

And for the first time since Gar’s death,

And Perla’s fight, and drowning breaths,

Poepi deep and easy breathed,

Her weighted mind, and chest, relieved.

Like one who’s back was nearly broke,

Before she cast apart her yoke.

The captain’s look was great surprise,

But then with eyes, set old and wise,

He said he’d keep it as his prize,

Until she wished for it once more,

When he would bring it from his stores.

After leaving the fishing captain,

She set to roads upon the mainland,

And crossed the bridge where they had jumped,

And then went home and then was stumped,

By what she saw in Islegrove,

Where castle ruins dipped and dove.

There, the ruins were being rebuilt,

And precious gems and metals guilt,

By craftsmen come from far and wide,

On every wall, on every side.

For two whole days, from a stand,

Of groves she watched the workers hands,

Camping on the very spot,

She and the smith had looked and talked,

That first night, above the village,

Before his capture, or her gillage.

Finally, one morning of dew,

Poepi saw, someone she knew,

And smiled her happiest smile of love,

Since dancing round the Blacksmith's stove.

From the stand she ran and ran,

Through the trees and over land,

Shouting from her laughing lungs,

Words her mouth had long unsung.

“Faerie Queen! Dear Faerie Queen!”

“Come to me Mother! So long has it been!”

Her arms were wide, her face was bright,

And in surprise, changed to delight,

The Queen looked up with greatest love,

Seeing Poepi running above,

And dropped her things, and moved to grace

Poepilandia’s sought embrace.

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