Lament of the Hereditary Master of the Columbarium.

by Aidan Andrew Dun

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Proud
white fantail
where are you flying?

I was your
lord and master
yesterday.

South walls
are under flood:
towers stream.

In first light
looking for
your winter return

I scan North Mountain’s
iron-and-granite
fronts

For your descent:
arrow of white
in the pass.

Many quick racers
have flown for me
beautiful

Carriers
messengers
speeding to Persepolis

In four days:
my blue-bar
legend of flight.

Yet where
are you afar
my fast white?

Perhaps the
Lord of Kandahar
has taken you?

All his now
broken-winged
in royal lofts?

I wish more
the hangbird
from the sun.

Once you would
station from rain
hide from wind

Down these
jade walls
so crumbled now:

Time
has broken
the dragon’s back.

Lovers: hear me
wish you
high over grief.

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