You wear the green for the honor of your lord.
It fits the pattern, though the pattern pains me.
At the heart of this working of Time
Is something akin to something I cannot describe.
I wear the green for the honor of Locksley, yet unborn,
And the stripes of grey for heartache.
This poem was written, as readers can tell from the title above, as part of my series set in the Arthurian legends—but because I’ve since thought better of placing the character I’ve named Geneveve in that series, this doesn’t really fit the nominal occasion anyway, and it’s even more deliberately-obscure than usual for me, I’ve hesitated to post it in its current form. However, even though it’s probably almost a decade old by now, the poem (especially the end) still resonates with me, so I’ve now posted it even though I ought to rework it into some entirely new form and context.
As always, I earnestly welcome your comments, suggestions, questions, critique, or other feedback about this or any other part of my work. (In other words, if you liked this poem, or you didn’t like it, or it made you think of something, or … please leave a comment to let me know.) If you liked this, you can follow this blog, which includes one of my poems every Friday, or read other poems I’ve written here on my blog (starting with yesterday’s archive installment, since the full archive is by now, at well over a hundred poems, somewhat daunting); I’d especially like to know, as part of my preparations for a collection, which poems you think are my best. You may also share this poem with others, subject to my sharing policy.
This poem is also mirrored on my wiki.