POETREE

Posted on behalf of ysabetwordsmith for formatting reasons.

In the July 5, 2011 Poetry Fishbowl someone asked for a world-weary paladin rather than the spotless kind usually seen in fantasy and the result was "Shine On." That month's theme was "low fantasy" so this also lent to the mood and tone of the series. Things here have a grittier edge than is typical of most fantasy settings. Everyone loved the world-weary paladin idea and this became an instant hit; people selected the poem for a perk in which donors would get to leave prompts for an extra free poem. It was the first time that a poem went straight to series in that fashion so the donors got to have a lot of influence over what developed right from the beginning.

Shahana, then, is a paladin of Gailah, a deposed goddess. That seriously limits what she can do in the way of magic, and influences how different people see her. The world is a mess, and Shahana still considers herself responsible for improving it, despite her diminished resources. In this first poem, she comes to a ruined village and meets a girl, Ari, who needs her help. The poem is written in unrhymed quatrains, lending a partial sense of structure; some others are free verse but there are several more written in quatrains like this. See an illustration from "Shine On" drawn by meeks.

Most stories are about triumphing over evil. Path of the Paladins is about going forward even after everything has already gone to hell. This series deals with many dark issues such as war, rape, and betrayal; but it also brings the numinous into reach. You can read the rest of the published poems in this series on my Serial Poetry page.

This series has really inspired my readers -- there are other supporting materials including the story "Holy Walking Warrior" sparked by "Shine On" and a detailed literary analysis of a much later poem, "The Symbolism of 'Stained' " which I was particularly pleased to get because there is so little critique of speculative poetry.


ETA: WARNING: "Shine On" contains imagery that may prove triggery for some people, so think before you click. There are fairly detailed descriptions of the aftermath of a raid on a village, and references to two different rapes with varying levels of detail though neither is exhaustive, along with background about cosmological violence and upheaval. The overall tone is weary and gritty but determined. People who are readily depressed or upset by what they read might want to skip this poem. People who are tired of pristine paladins with perfect lives will probably appreciate it.

Shine On


Shahana the Paladin rode her mule into the ruined village,
a day late and a ducat short, as usual, but there nonetheless.
The surviving boys threw rocks in addition to taunts,
all of which bounced off her battered armor.

Shahana helped to put out the last of the fires.
She missed the quick cataract of her old water spell,
but there was no shortage of buckets,
and those did the job just as well in the end.

She rounded up what cows hadn't been eaten.
They didn't need a beast-speaking spell,
just a kind voice and a gentle hand
to guide them into the remaining barns.

Every equine in the village had been stolen,
so Shahana sighed and hitched her mule to a plow
so the old men could begin replanting the ravaged fields.
She could always get herself another mule later.

By that time, the boys had quit harassing her
and started helping out; after all, it was their home too.
One of them plucked at her elbow with trembling fingers.
"Please," he said, "it's my sister."

So Shahana followed him to the room full of casualties.
She gravely surveyed the two black eyes and split lip,
the bite marks on the small breasts and belly,
the blood drying ominously all over the girl's hips.

The paladin stripped off her stained gloves
and knelt to lay her hands upon the still body.
She descended into the silence within herself and prayed,
Great Gailah, lend me Your grace for the good of this girl.

The magic welled up around her, not with the force of a furnace,
but with the slow promise of spring sunlight warming winter soil.
Shahana crouched there, channeling, until her back cramped
and the girl sat up with a ravenous grumble.

A withered old woman brought out a kettle of mutton soup
from a sheep that hadn't gotten out of the way of the fighting.
Firmly she placed bowls in front of each of them
and said, "Eat up, dearies, before you fall over from hunger."

As they ate, the boy Larn told Shahana all about his sister Ari,
and their five brothers who had gone off to war,
and their aunts and uncles and cousins dead of famine,
and their parents just killed in the recent raid.

Larn looked at the paladin with his huge brown eyes
and whispered, "Please ... I know I can't protect her here."
Shahana sighed. He was right; there was no leaving a girl
like her in a village like this. They'd sell her. They'd have to.

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