Breath Of The Wild Anthology Volume 1 by PoetsOfHyruleAnthologies

a breath of the wild poetry and art anthology VOLUME 1.

This anthology is a non-profit collaborative fanwork for the Legend of Zelda series. Formatted and organized by Basil and Maber 2021 3

contents Thundra Plateau …………………………… 7-8 poem by noe - art by inna

A golden korok poem………………………… 9 poem by snidge - art by ellen

I build a home ……………………………… 10 poem by pagan - art by ro

The undying wild …………………………… 11-13 poem by leo - art by iris

The ballad of melancholic pastures ………… 14 poem by read - art by ro

The nothing in everything, the everything in Nothing …………………………………… 15-17 poem by chey - art by iris

Foremothers………………………………… 18 poem by chey 4

Regrow and reclaim ……………………… 19-21 poem by mon - art by diane

Grief of a wanderer ………………………… 22 poem by peahen

Shadows of Gods, Forms of Ideals ………… 23-24 poem by - art by amlugon

Lurelin…………………………………… 25-26 poem by iris - art by mabs

Sunset in the marketplace ………………… 27-28 poem by sap - art by bee

Champions poem ……………………………29-30 poem by ro - art by lucy

Ancestral stains ………………………… 31-32 poem by mabs - art by amlugon

Soliloquy of a Zora Prince ………………… 33-34 poem by sval - art by kat

Links cookbook …………………………… 35-36 poem by mabs

Smile like the earth……………………… 37-38 poem by peahen - art by snidge

Marching on ……………………………… 39-40 poem by faerie - art by tsugi

Ragdoll with a human heart ……………… 41-43 poem by camellia - art by basil

Can you hear this silence ………………… 44-46 poem by kip - art by roman

This will be an ugly poem ………………… 48-53 poem by basil - art by mabs

You’ll find it down the hill………………… 47 poem by ro

Credits …………………………………… 55-59

Thunder rumbles loud Odd shapes lit by flashing lights The pillars stand tall Unrelenting in the rain So tree-like, but not Ruins litter the landscape Ever withstanding The tests of nature and time All but forgotten A flash of thunder Fervent, unceasing downpour Clouding my vision Shielding this place from the world

How did it come to? A greater power, a god? Mystery seeps through As lightning flashes again Making me feel small Inconsequential in this Corner of the world And despite the rain The thunder and lightning bright In its own strange way It feels so tranquil, peaceful 9

They’re small, They’re sweet They run around your feet They have a store full of mushrooms That you just love to eat They brave the dark forest And travel ‘round Hyrule In solving all their puzzles, They know you are no fool!

With leaf and berry twig, Pinwheel and balloon They are always hoping That you’ll visit really soon These children of the forest, They avoid a life of hard knocks They’re magical spirits, These little Koroks!

i build a home Two hammocks, one table. We make this place our home. Tulin comes with me to the Flight Range. His mother worries for us both. My wife, Saki. My love. I do not mean to worry you. But I fear that our son must learn to fight in order to survive this world.

Hold us as tightly as you must when we return. I welcome it. Our home is our world meant for us. In our home we can feel safe my dear. Lately though, our home has begun to house someone new. The young Hylian. He is simple and strange to me. I cannot tell if he is a child or an adult.

Some days I don't think he knows either. He is like an infant without a mother. He reaches for something he can't name. He is distant sometimes, he doesn't hear me. We go many days without hearing from him. And then he is here, and so very tired. He says he likes the fact that our home has no walls. For he fears being trapped again. I made a bed for him, he cannot sleep in hammocks. He needs to feel connected to the ground when he sleeps. I cannot pretend to understand all that he suffers. There is little I can do. But I can listen when he speaks. And adjust his blanket when his dreams turn dark. Our home is our world meant for us. In our home he can feel safe. 11

The Undying Wild And with each footstep, the dust shall rise and rest upon the fibres of my clothing I will carry that place to next all while gathering a memory I am sure is not mine Did you remember me? You remembered me I know The way a forest recalls how to grow without instruction

This world is vast and ever-changing and I slumbered as nature reclaimed it Great rivers rushed throughout time leaving the shape of the earth in gentle curves A caress to lean into as the blazing sunsets and my back rests in the grass of those river banks. You remembered me and you remembered to be soft You remembered me and you remembered to be unyielding You remembered me and you remembered to be… just to be The rush of the wind in the grasslands brings the howl of the wolves with it Valleys deep and wide a scream to the Heavens and I let my feet touch the echo of something that once breathed there Bleach bone now and nothing else save sand and sky meeting somewhere in the middle You remembered me I know The way the tide gifts us a reprieve and leaves behind the treasures of its bed for us to find. Something sharp embedded in snow recalling a strength now only a ghost of a memory I too am a myth long forgotten but for low spoken tales under a setting sun that has seen the world over a thousand times and shall see the world over a thousand more. A holy thing broke open to the fierce blue above and this is how I learn to fly One spire exchanged for another their presence a testament to the beings that once flourished and in a blink perished. The world is so big and I am but one man. You remembered me when I could not remember myself. 14

The Ballad of Melancholic Pastures Music notes soar in the cool air, The voice of a concertina. Song of a father good and fair, Notes once played on ocarina. The cold wind ruffles his feathers, But he takes no notice, enrapt In his song: a riddle clever Tells of secrets hidden, untapped. The ocean below teems with fish, Salmon dancing under the waves. He thinks of his child and the dish, Salmon Meunière, she always craves. Her feathers lit up by fire’s glow As she watches her mother cook. Impatient, complains she’s too slow, But she won’t want it undercooked. Nearby, a wood pigeon’s singing, Purple plumage lit by the sun, Like his daughter who loves to sing. Someday perhaps she’ll be the one He will teach all of his songs to, She would be eager to learn them. But for now he thinks of her coos, A gentle tune she sings to him.

The blue sky is dappled with clouds, In it, he thinks that he can see A face, his daughter, in the shroud, Caring and shy, the young girl Cree. He knows that she must miss him so, Just like he misses her as well. He’ll bring her gifts of stones that glow And hug her until her heart swells. The bag on his back is packed full With help from Kotts, who gave him her Good luck charm: a flower she pulled From the ground, petals soft as fur. He holds it close to his chest now, Remembering her happy smile. When he had left, she made him vow To think of her once in a while.

The sky turns red like the feathers Of his eldest. She loves sunsets Like this. They would sit together Watching and singing a duet. She would fall asleep in his arms, And he’d carry her back to bed. He’d tuck her in, make sure she’s warm, And smooth the feathers on her head.

As day turns to night, his thoughts drift To Amali, his lovely wife, His love, he thinks of the gifts He’ll bring back to her: a new knife For her cooking, and preparing Meals. He knows how much it calms her To make meals and see them eating Them happily, all together. He longs for the day when he goes Home, and can see his family. He’ll bring them stories of sun, snow, And forest. He’ll hold Amali Close, and each of his five daughters. He’ll tell them how much he loves them And they’ll say “We missed you father!” And snuggle much closer to him.

I woke, blurry-eyed and emerged to gaze upon the red rising sun, my heart steadily breaking from memories locked away.

Beyond that heartland there was more, better even. Life, hope, steadiness, but it was not the same love that I knew in those cold ruins.

I am the decay. I am the soft erosion. I am the dying, and yet still living, living and yet still living, living.

I knew not one thing, but the swift breeze took me in, cool, sweet, and caring and led me to the first home, my grand, crumbling temple.

Vignettes of old lives passing softly before me. Ghosts of long-gone pasts caressing my ancient face. Maybe I was meant for them,

I made my bed there on the soft and grassy floor, watched the blinking stars through the gaps in the ceiling and learned what it meant to rest.

to live among them in their city of the dead made of sunrises and of pink wildflowers and of gray, eroding, walls.

My heart beats in time with the slowly crawling vines what curl their soft way across the Zonai ruins. I am a part of it too.

I might have remained had duty and need not pulled. I wanted to go but I could have stayed longer and I would have loved it still.

My soul is older, older than my small body and it is tired and it is desperate, wanting for the other things it knew.

Dear and decaying, the love of The Great Plateau, but the wind said, “Go.” “I can shelter you no more,” and so I went off.

But there is a part that is only me, I know and it desires to be in those places still. My heart begs me to go there.

Beyond that heartland there was warmth, humanity, thriving, rising, vibrant; But I could not feel the same as I felt in those wide plains.

The grandeur of it, this sprawling, humming, bright land. The quiet of it, this greying, browning old place. Both of them, home in my soul.

The plains I traveled place to place, moments blinking, breathing, hair flying The sky, open, above me. That was where my soul flourished.

My body thrums light with a thousand ages passed. energy buzzing through every limb and white bone. It is a part of me, too.

- The Nothing in Everything, The Everything in Nothing

Which gathers each piece, each thought and experience. It’s an amalgam, a holder of the ageless and the hearts of old alike.

foremothers My dearest jewel, daughter of the golden sands, you are more noble than the fairytale goddess, child of the great Gerudo. We who have made lives in this marvelous desert, we who have took much and given so, so much more. Remember where you come from. My sweetest nectar, kin of a thousand sisters, hold this land close, safe. It is yours as it is mine, as it is the Chieftain's too. We stand side-by-side, a strong, unbroken fortress, loved and united by bonds stronger than red blood. We are spirit and heart. Can you feel your heart? Can you feel it, little one? Beating in your chest, beating with legends of old, beating with vibrant new life? That is the kind heart of the great cultivators, of the persevered, who have made the red wasteland into the gold promised land.

That is the bright heart of the desert warriors, of the unbroken who have stood tall as mountains in the battles great as myth. We are your family, forever dedicated, forever loving. Kind hearts growing together. Bright hearts lighting the sky. We are yours, always. We are yours, until the end. My glimmering star, remember, we will be here, keeping vigil and safe watch.

For we know you shine and will continue to shine, resplendent as gold and the jewels of our crest. You are our future, and past. You are everything, our rage, our grief, our fine grace. You are our smiles, just as you are our blue tears My eternal, endless love, You are Gerudo.

regrow and reclaim Stars fall from the sky Landing in the fields below Brightening the ruins Trees shake their branches Swaying in the evening breeze Hiding the fallen Leaves cascading down A sorrowful silhouette Left in a dead town The stars keep falling Falling, falling, falling down The land once poisoned Now regrown once more

GRIEF OF A WANDERER

a feathered one from a mystic land

Our land is a realm of the dead come to life

met me and told me of its wonders "What marvels were there in the land of my birth!

a place where spirits unseen cast their shade

Spires that pillar the sky with their grace

our land was destroyed by the quarrels of old

forests that teem with Farore's life unhindered

Ancient gods who abandoned for all eternity

canyons that hide ancient marvels unknown!"

"I will never return", casting her face to the sky

The light left her face then, and she sighed with great grief

"Not til a wasteland is all that is left a wild, tempestuous, forsaken plain

"But the power of the boar lives yet in our land

Devoid of the malice which made it that way

its people are slain by a monstrous horde its symbols are burned by spiders of stone

its glory forgotten by th' deaths of its people

and the steadfast spirit that endured long til now

Of Hylia's land, they shall speak of in tears for nothing is left of that glorious realm

The thread of its hope lies in one girl alone

nothing but ghosts and the deaths of a legend

she fights in the castle, alone and unaided while souls of the dead trample our fields

nothing but ruins and bones of our heroes."

shadows of gods forms of ideals With scales lined wheat-colored and of honeyed grain Under a fearful, verdant gaze Glowing in night, but fading in day Courage personified in an inhuman frame He who soars above the snowy plains Causing strife and unknowing pains Outrun the horses, heroes, men and gods A battle flag waved against the odds Over lakes, rivers, waterfalls, streams Indescribable, the thing of dreams A shadow only few would hope to see With fewer still, such as thou, whose eyes hast further gleaned And while bravery may be hard to find The acts and fallouts are noticed even amongst the blind Mountains split in twain and fields demolished Waters overrunneth and so the wild flourished

With talons of fire opal and sunsets Flames rejoice and berefts the rest Rising along the hot air with glorious expanse Power begets another, another chance They who ravage through the dead earth Splits the country to prove their worth Cutting like a blade through a man’s chest A cacophony rises, a challenge met Blending into the auburn, scarlet, and marigold Never to be stopped, outliving the old Under or over, either way is for death Unless thou hath faced them with steady breath And while control is there for the taking It is only for a world that is of thy making No grass shall grow under a hellfire’s raze Only fools overstep their place in a game

With a crown made from icy blasts And yet, and yet, I find myself A breath of frozen, ancient pasts A traveler over bridges and waters and mountain Wrapped around a finger and simmered in rage shelves Wisdom longing, breaking out of her cage And I feel the winds sing, a piano in my ear She who glides down unsteady mountains I turn around and see what wasn’t last there Tried and tired of wishing on fountains And I see shadows of gods, followed by forms of Used to a life of unbalanced, unfairness ideals Of unequal attacks while being called the fairest A feeling of existence, a dream that is real Knowing how to hide can be her victory And yet, and yet, I find myself Never appears, whence thou find trickery Sitting down, watching fairies and dragons and Hide in the snow without submitting to the cold elves For she hath beauty for thou to behold And until the twilight’s last breath, I shall remain As to the heavens they go at the death of day And while knowledge may be easy to achieve Understanding is different, and it’s harder to believe But the doors then open that were previously hidden With the sword being lesser compared to the pen that hath written 25

At the far corners, near the end of world The star sprayed dome descends once again. The Sun Bride comes out to meet the sea On the horizon; she casts her glorious veil on him They kiss, they part; the day begins Plunging into the reef, nets and ropes sink The porgies and the trout are ensnared; captured Mature, spidery hands pull the strings of their webs Up to claim their sea fruit; in the early dawn Another day cycle has been secured Scuttling razor claw crabs are chased by clever children The Brave Knights of Hyrule corner their mighty foes With swords and shields, the monsters are captured To be taken back to the castle where the Queen rewards Her heroes with coconut juice and zippy voltfruit Sand encrusts glistening brown skin like diamond dust A faint fragrance of coconut oil and hibiscus perfume The high sun sears the Earth beneath her The waves, with their cooling air, temper her Splashes of water, the creeping shade of the palm trees

Salted, weathered wood; strong structures that have lasted The home harth erupts in torrid flames, red with life Green palm leaves shield the home’s wooden bones Strong fragrances of burning palm, coconut shells Driftwood, porgy and salt, durian slices and crab claws The Sun Bride has now come to her mountain bedside Tired from the journey; her glow faint and dim The ocean swells to catch her, but is kept aloft on the shore To wait until she awakes again; the stars offer company The village is refreshed and hovers in uplifted air The torches are lit, the bonfire stoked, the music plays The people gather and offer their dishes and drinks The couples grab, and the children play, the sand is splayed The water splashed and the elders weave their tales To celebrate another day, to comfort in the vibrancy of life The Night becomes high, the Moon’s full face looks below The dancing becomes slower and music more quiet Into their homes the people whisper off, hammocks loaded Curled up in fine woven fibers; the sleep is peaceful And the dreams as deep as the horizons breadth 26

sunset in the marketplace A refreshing drink on a scalding day Cradling the ice long left in the glass Savoring the cool touch until it melted away That's what's made Gerudo Town itself It was the people that smiled their hearts out And gave their friendly waves To all the chattering people Then ushered you to their stand And you were bound to spend a rupee It was the feeling of silk on skin The blues and the pinks and purples The way they jumped into place So it hung loose and tight at once As the gold beads jingled against each other It was the jewels, shining rainbows of color The protection so carefully crafted Into each and every piece Fitted snugly into ribbons of golds and silvers Joined together with a gentle craft and hand

It was the spices that floated through the air The steaks that sizzled and popped Sauces that filled your mouth with sensation Thick curries and roasted vegetables The sharp crack of breads breaking It was the maze-like foundation You didn't get lost between the walls Rather lost in the scattered bits of history Lost in little worlds tucked into the corners Lost in the whispers of the cool breeze It was the scent of old, old texts That sat pleasantly in the air Known to anyone who found the library The scrolls you'd read with endless markups As leftovers of gossip seeped into the wall

And then you found yourself back there A refreshing drink on a scalding day Cradling the ice long left in the glass Savoring the cool touch until it melted away All of it made Gerudo Town itself

little sunbeam little reminder of her

little bird

you are so stern you are so fragile you are stronger than you can imagine i will give you my sword i will give you my fury

but i cannot fore

brave beloved brave knight

protect you ever

brave tide of my heart

you are so quiet you are so honest you are foolhardy with care i will give you my spear i will give you my prayer

That anger feels a bit like lightning, Striking but short-lived, Couldn’t let it last too long, It’ll char your feathers black, if they’re white, Brown, if they’re blue, Dark and unforgiving as winters skies, The stains on the floor are the stains of you, Flaking away like autumn leaves, Though far more beautiful, With serenity to match With poise to match With decay to match What of the berries that grew alongside you? The blossoms of those tender days, The future is stark white, like snow, Rosy pink blooms to complement, And the budding of life in between, What goes with blue? Nothing goes with blue, Nothing grows in blue, Not even the one who created and cherished you, Not even the one who is fated to follow you The soil around you is broken and dry And those who grow with you will wither and die Our eyes will never sully that glistening crimson, Rotting brown after time soon immeasurable, You promise your death won’t ever be in vain, Much like your blood will never be in vein, Not when it’s dripping over the backs of your descendants, Alter the events of fate, it’s easy enough, Lie through your teeth, it’s easy enough, Leave everything you have to one to avenge you, And your promises to those who are never to know you.

ANCESTRAL STAINS So give me the sturdy blue over the cold white any day, Because those innocent tones will be lost to time, And his name will be lost to your fate, Nothing can help taint the shade of indigo, Your memory will stain him like ink, His history is yours now,

Chant death over pride through the blood in your mouth, Scream your victories over the bodies on the floor, Yell your name as the ground begins to rumble, through the thunder in your eyes, and the crackling in your ears, and the lump in your throat, as the sky opens for you, and you alone, and what waits for you, is the very end

Because you’re the blight of Vah Medoh, Didn’t you see it? The way it moves like you, The way it shoots like you, Your biggest enemy is yourself, Or so they say, So move on, Or you’ll give us much more trouble than it’s worth 33

SOLILOQUY OF A ZORA PRINCE A Prince; is that the word my Zora choose, That they feel best describes me? What a name, As though the first part doesn’t leave the rest Devoid in feeling, or somehow bereft. A Prince, true, is the title I’m assigned, And duty decrees I’m to heed its call. But “Prince” wholly ignores what’s underneath, And constitutes one mere drop of my whole, Of all the currents pulled into the sea, That rage and storm; and somehow, carved out me. A Zora like the rest would seem more sane, And so my mind drifts back to simpl’r times; When sun would cast a glint across the waves, And light did dance through scarcely setting skies. And “Prince” was not the word to which I clung, But “Brother” would so often breach the tides; And we would swim through waters, each among The crystal walls that shroud Lanayru’s guise. A time of joy, of freedom I adored; A joy which never since has breached the shore. Those days are long since gone, yet still I stand; My eyes directed out towards the sea. But days of blissful joy dare not return, For fear of crossing paths with destiny. It knows the fate that fell my dear sister, And wonders if I too will take the plunge. Each time the night creeps in, I hear it whisp’r; I wonder if I too will be expunged. Do I fall short of all that is required, And if so, just how long ‘til I’m retired? But a Prince must keep his head firmly high, Or else the crown will slip down from its rest. No Prince must let his subjects see him low; And so I hide the fear from every guest. But come nightfall, restraint fades far too fast, So I fear what will never be obtained: The guidance of my sister, long since passed. A moment of true freedom, still restrained. But I must hide my falter in a grin, And pray that no day soon will it cave in. A Prince; that is the word my Zora choose, That they feel best describes me. That is all, As though I am no more than just a role. As though they think that I will never fall. But I am not a savior or a gift, And soon enough my river will run dry. My sister once succumbed into this rift, And one day soon, it’s sure to pass me by And when it does, my fate may let them down. Perhaps I am not fit to bear this crown.

LINK’S COOKBOOK Honey Candy tastes like… ...the brimming early morning, The sun was vibrant that day, Illuminating the grass stains on my knees, And the smears of dirt on your dress, We tore up the wrappers, Watching them ride the breeze over the river, You had no front teeth, And no weight on your shoulders, I had a voice, And no burden on my back, Though you were scolded, And I was spanked, We were so happy.

Pumpkin Stew tastes like… ...the bitter air of the little valley, The spice of the twilight we bathed in, You’d never eaten it before, Though you tasted a tart nostalgia, The love stirred into it by her, Listening to the sway of the trees, And the cicadas trill, Your home away from home. Though our time there was short, I think she wanted you to call it home, too, The same way those glistening eyes, Longed to call you family.

Carrot Cake tastes like… ...the crisp, fiery leaves, Scattered over the field, The zest of green, Turned saccharine yellow, Crunched underfoot, Crackled when we sat, And in the shivering late autumn, We ate in silence, But your eyes shone the warmest gold, Against the light of the setting sun.

Creamy Heart Soup tastes like… The soft warmth of rolling hills, Not at all like the desert we sat in, The sand crackled like ice beneath our feet, Just as cold, too, But she smiled when you came in, With food to soothe your soul For the rest of the night, The birds were silent, You thought of your mother, And so did she. She values the spice of life, A special ingredient to keep us alive, Passed down through her family, And now yours…

Salmon Meuniere tastes like… ...the smoky wooden beams, The must of woven rugs, In little huts that hover the lake, Where crisp snow lines the mountaintops, Against the brazen blue sky, Painting an outline stronger than its proudest residents, And under that hawkish green gaze, You ate as much as you could stomach, I watched the peppery sauce spill from your tingling lips, The taste stung as his laugh did.

Curry Rice tastes like… Thick air seasoned with dust, Sating our appetites before ever eating, We coughed and hacked around our rice, Salt burning the splits in our lips, And the weight of pebbles in our stomachs, Though he did his best to avoid them, Regardless of the taste, The hazy sunlight reflected a toothy grin, Making it that much more delectable.

Belying serious nature, A pot of pepper thrown into the mixture, Verdant eyes await the fruits of labour, With a smile reflected in an untouched bowl.

Salt crumbles in his bare hands, The spice is spilt from the shelf to the pot, We watched him from behind the door, Relishing in the aroma of dedication.

Crab Risotto tastes like… delicate days, The water weaving through our toes, Sitting on the lakeshore, Lazing on the edge of the world, But only for a moment, With the tang of crab on our tongues, And rice stuck between our teeth, Seasoned with a sweet Zora's love, From her, to me, to you. The pot bubbles with love, But you masked your fears with salt, Did you knock it in there on purpose…? ...I'm sorry, Mipha.

Baked Apples taste like… … It’s warm… …and familiar. I’d forgotten this world, Sweetness was the first ignition, Of an entire lifetime, I may not know how to cook anymore, But when I taste it, I’ll know it’s right, So I’ll keep going, In the hopes that I’ll taste everything I can, Of what I once had.

‘she has a smile like the sun’ but she doesn’t the sun is their ideal the sun is what she is expected to be, benevolent and life-giving and distant she has a smile like the earth instead, for that is truer to her she gives life to the world but she gives it with the rich brown soil with the laughter of rushing water with the rustle of wind in the trees she isn't a distant, mysterious power to be revered but an intimate friend always by your side she doesn't smile like the sun, warm and wide and glowing but like the earth smeared with dirt and rainwater and leaves mountains and canyons and scars on her face she doesn't smile like the sun, turning her warmth on every oblivious being but like the earth, she blossoms only when loved and encouraged and given space to grow how about this 'she has a smile like the earth'

MARCHING ON Of marching ghosts prompted by drums Triumphant cries made all too soon A promise that with truth still hums Though to ruin this place did swoon How fragile standing tall must be For strength to fall so drastic’ly Last words of love as soldiers die Loyal to hope when hope ran dry Another gone, no point in count Those heroes come in short supply Yet none were found on this here mount A scarlet sky it overcomes Turns pale cream to a deathly moon Corruption is what hope becomes When evil sings a different tune No great escape unless you flee Or meet your end, goddess you’ll see No time to mourn, no time to cry This stronghold’s purpose gone awry A joke this threat we may surmount Those miracles we tried to try Yet none were found on this here mount This castle like a cake in crumbs Was no more than a dusty dune A tomb for ghosts to voice welcomes And swim in seas of pink maroon To enter is to pay the fee Of century-long absentee This castle now a mere pig-sty Until the light approaches nigh But it is he we can’t account A hundred years in wait for thy Yet none were found here on this mount 40

The lad who braved the pall of drums Courage like a rising typhoon Gallant and brave, he thus incomes As if he will be out by noon Guided by the young maiden’s plea And blade bequeathed by the great tree Although he asks the valid why This task is one he can’t deny Survivors of the long lost war in amount From brick to brick he searched it dry Yet none were found here on this mount The golden light then caught his eye No longer did the lad ask why He rid the castle of it’s curse And hoped in Hyrule there’d be nothing worse 41

It begins with one thing. A splintering piece of wood. That digs into your palms. Its stupid. Its stupid that you’re a child. And its stupid that its wood and not metal. A sword for training, Those that are unaware of what to do, And are therefore useless. The lack of scars is stupid as well, you quickly find out. The other men have them, etching their body and organs. They are strong and old, You are weak and young, And so you are below in every way. Humans love to talk. They blabber out nonsense, About things that are none of their concern. They speak with threats dancing on their tongues, And smiles that don’t reach their eyes. They like to say one thing to you, You are to be a warrior. As you age you discover that there are more things. Wood changes to metal, finally. Its cold, and soulless. So are your hands and the apples you eat. Snow is everywhere, But it is not white. And sore throats are far less important than the fate of the world. Calluses, and a single scar. A young girl, Whose fate is apparently tied to yours. It doesn’t matter, You do not yet care. You are both children and helpless. Your hair continues to grow, Those that die are born again, And there is blood, As there always is, And anger.

The world becomes painful. Training changes to fighting. You no longer wish to do this. You cannot say so, There is a frayed rope tying your vocal cords silent, And the humans will begin to glare, Their drooling love dissipates. You are reminded you are still a child. The days become longer than they were before. years pass, Pain increases as it always does, But the others do not feel the same. They are not sick, Nor are you, technically. Despite having teeth, And lips, And a jaw, You do not speak. This is wrong, And you are finally sick. The screaming agony containers to skutter about, Reaching your lungs. You become more ill, Sleeping is difficult, So is eating. That is alright, you can still function, so you can still work. That makes it alright. There is a dull mystery surrounding your body. How does it stay together, with so many tears and bandages used? Perhaps if you tugged on a limb hard enough it would fall off, Falling to the ground with thread and stuffing. That is desirable, But not attainable. Peace, Emotion, an unleaving love, That is unattainable.

A painful screaming agony exists in your throat. It will not loosen with the sick. 44

Can you hear this silence? ... It’s kept. In the pockets of the breeze. One can sit for years, waiting for its crescendo and never wake This silence. It sleeps in the broken stone. The stone of the wicked, the heroic, the innocent— It’s all fair. It’s all fair and good. Equal, and undistinguishable. The doors are just doors and the walls are just walls The tattered roads will take you somewhere you’ll never be In the land that belongs to no one But the silence

Can you hear it now? It rests in this fragile world. The silence. The chatter of children in the streets Now echoes as the chirp of wandering bugs The scream and cries of soldiers Now drowned by the scurrying of ants The silence. When you listen, it is nothing but breathtaking. This silence. When you listen, it is nothing but death. … I used to wonder when the silence would take me You fear silence, like I once did For silence Must mean broken Silence must break Silence means a fragile eternity of nothingness You might compare this world to an ocean’s edge One that lays Eerily still No ripples or foam tease the sand You beg it to roar, you beg it to sing You beg the shore to remind you it’s alive That you’re alive Are you alive at the shore? But it’s

Silent. You fear this silence. ... You fear my unknown Because you can’t hear this silence

Will you hear it now? Will you hear the stream giggle at my jokes? Will you hear the cubs slumber in their cave The cave made of broken crown? Silence. The bird are silent as they sing and worship the new breeze The mountains rise to meet the stars It’s Silent Wild plum trees shiver in their tremulous white The cries of pain, of war, of insufferable plight aren’t in this silence Roaring Silence The fire chuckles at the stories that the merchants tell their friends As they nestle in the earth’s embrace The vines crack the stone bricks asunder as another scurry of ants make their way back home Under my Silence Beautiful silence. From the eastern waters rises a new dawn, the morning streams into the eyes of a slumbering child And he wakes in the wondrous silence The only song he’s ever known You may stand at the ocean’s edge Remembering that old song But don’t go searching for it here Here, waves are a kingdom of living earth and stone Life in a new world born Deprave me of an audience But this song still will play on Hear this Silence Will you hear death? Or hear it breathe 47

THIS WILL BE AN UGLY POEM And it will start with a bang. A blast of silence, sounds like thunder, rumble rumble, Out from skies turned darkest dark against the evening sun. Behind you she has crumbled. Pulls on your hand to slow you down. Crouch. She cries, tears reflecting the dim light like miniature chandeliers dripping crystals And she moans. Her Feet hurt, she’s suddenly a child, no older than twelve, Wanting her father to leave her alone. Wailing in your arms That life’s unfair, and you know. You know. (you’ve heard the whispers, castle town in the distance, mind and physically you know how they talk, spill words from mouths that work. because if one has a mouth, one must talk.) You have a mouth but you can’t talk, “princess” is the word on your tongue. It dies in your throat Falls, like the people who died in the fields. You are barren, plowed, unharvested all at once. She is sodden, face a pool of tears, famous artists could not render This emotion with their watercolour. Above you heaven’s been torn asunder. This is a Bad Place, can’t stop here, and all you can hear is the thunder, Rumble rumble. There’s a distance to be covered, so you run; further, further.

Pass so many trees they blur like tears in your eyes, the rain’s falling heavy and fast, Mud’s caked on the back of your legs, she’s shuddering of cold in your hold. You think of times gone, childhood lies, stories told Making mud cakes and fairy elixirs from blades of grass and rain puddles but Now the blades of swords are all you tear from the ground. And now malice binds you, surrounds you, eats your heart through, Little holes like missing cobblestones in the path of your body; keep running, Keep flying, feet barely touching the ground. Don’t stumble. Above you, rumble rumble, Clouds a mean and dirty grey. Thick like smoke. Lives choked. Your hand is slipping from hers, the balancing act coming to a close. Pinkening purple and sunsetting red, it’s just up ahead, through the trees and the harsh bracken and thrush. An eye. Just one. Malice infects it; you remember its empyrean blue, Now it’s a reddish hue, and focuses on you. You don’t have much time to react, protect the princess the priority; Stand in front of her and brace yourself. Blast. A blast of silence Fills the air, your ear Bloodied; your chest a cavity It hurts.

It’s an inevitability, something so ineffable; Holding hands should be reserved for lovers and mothers; People lying in repose, not whatever you two are running from. Rumble, rumble, it pours down with rain; the mud’s slippier and slicker in this terrain, And through the thrush, through the bushes and the brush, There’s a lone little light, red like a rose. Your mind, so tired with the events of the night, Mistakes it for safety for a blinding second. But it’s an eye. It turns to you, molasses slow, moving through honey, and all it does is glow. You’ve hardly a moment to put up your shield before its red beam Finds you, marks you as its chosen prey. You push her behind you, her Grip on your hand so clammy and harsh, any other time you might’ve blushed, But all you can feel is the push back from the laser as it hits your shield. The next time, you parry, but you’re in such a hurry (the longer you tarry, the more damage done) That you miss time and it hits the ground. She’s shaking, gripping your shirt like a child hiding behind her mother’s skirts, And whispering prayers to be listened to and helped. The eye aims again. This time, your shield breaks, and the rain is pounding in your face, And the skies are crying SOS, and Heaven herself Is a dead animal feasted upon by Darkness, which prevails. Rumble, rumble roars the thunder, and between one flash and the next You’re on the ground and covered in blood And she’s leaning over you with tears on her face; They drip on you, and there they mingle with the rain. Then it’s dark, and all you know Is constant rumbling, your ears burning with cold. Your fingers twitch, reach, For something you know should be in your hold. Your sword. -

Then it’s dark, and all you know Is constant rumbling, your ears burning with cold. Your fingers twitch, reach, For something you know should be in your hold. Your sword. This will be an ugly poem And it will start with a bang. It’s the thunder, coming closer, rumble rumble, It’s the thunder, and now you see on the horizon a little light Lasts just a second, gone before it could be identified. You think of Urbosa and her finger snap But this is purer, less controlled than that. The lightning strikes again, three times thriving on the burning earth, moving closer With each tree felled, and you’re running straight to it. How cruel, you wonder, Your knight pulling so uncomfortably on your arm, your fingers trapped beneath his own. There’s blood pouring from his ear. He pulls harder on your hand, you’re so sure You’ll bruise from his grip on you, and yet you’re slipping. You’re choking. You’re wailing. You’re falling and collapsing and its like a building demolished, all coming out at once, This feeling of anger and failure, you’re so useless, why can’t you see The things that are staring at you from mere feet away? Good goddess, have you ever even done anything right, why can’t you just Stand up and fight, Your father’s eyes flash in your mind. Link crouches beside you and sighs.

The lightning strikes again, three times thriving on the burning earth, moving closer With each tree felled, and you’re running straight to it. How cruel, you wonder, Your knight pulling so uncomfortably on your arm, your fingers trapped beneath his own. There’s blood pouring from his ear. He pulls harder on your hand, you’re so sure You’ll bruise from his grip on you, and yet you’re slipping. You’re choking. You’re wailing. You’re falling and collapsing and its like a building demolished, all coming out at once, This feeling of anger and failure, you’re so useless, why can’t you see The things that are staring at you from mere feet away? Good goddess, have you ever even done anything right, why can’t you just Stand up and fight, Your father’s eyes flash in your mind. Link crouches beside you and sighs. You can barely open your eyes Too many tears gluing them closed, you feel so exposed, It’s so unfair, and he knows. He knows. But this is a Bad Place, he’s right, pulls on your hand and drags you away, Run through the woods where once you might have played Made childlike elixirs with mud and grass blades. Now there are bodies and limbs scattering the clearings, Swords stuck in the ground, shattered and weary. Malice in the air. So dark the sky’s become, like night fallen early, Pink and purple and black, curly Whispers of the stuff. It winds Around your neck, chokes and throttles you, and he’s not much better, eyes streaming Against the heat of fire and destruction and grief, a necklace that tightens Its clasp the further you run, the closer you get To the castle. Eventually, everything Stops.

Another light, this one rosy through the trees. You mistake it for home. The burning fires Felt so warm, you know? And the smiling moon (barely visible through the pink clouds) Casts a spotlight on its source. It’s not home. He pushes you out the way, hand leaving your wrist, the lack of pressure momentarily Unbalancing. You want the stable feel of a bruising hold guiding you again, but there he goes Pulls out his shield, stance so relaxed he might be in repose, Knees slightly bent and eyes a steely storm, seas of salt. It smells of salt. It’s the blood, perhaps And before your eyes can even focus on the stalker legs coming forth He’s parried a blow. He grabs your wrist again, bruising hold once more, And he’s pulling even harder now, running away. You wonders how unfair it is To think what you’re thinking - even private in your mind, you feel ashamed.

Coward. Running away feels like running to a lesser life, one where All that remains will be Tainted and trite. Can we beg ourselves to live again When Calamity’s dug its claws in and torn from bone Flesh which bleeds and bleeds and bleeds? The blood spilt in vain today shall colour the moon for A century to come, though you don’t know that yet.

His hold on you feels sticky. His fingerless gloves Are startlingly red even in the red light from above And you know he’s bleeding and bleeding and bleeding But you selfishly hope he holds on. You need him more Than you ever thought, you’re so ashamed Your animosity towards him makes you blush But you’re seventeen, you think, And you’re so sick of crying yourself to sleep because your father doesn’t love You and you have no friends and all you do is train and learn. You soaked yourself in a spring for hours today, your dress still bears the stains Of sacred waters and of the muddied swaps you’ve crossed to get Here. So When he pulls his shield out And parries against another eye, And when he falls and when he And when he crumbles And when he falls, and when he And when he falls, half dead, you’re delirious because this can’t be it, this can’t be it, Hylia knows you’ve given up Your childhood for this, too much pain, And he has too. You heard the stories, pulled the sword When he was thirteen, training even before that, and you’re so Enamoured with this persistence, this mental stamina that He has and you lack possession of.

So When He Falls, And When He Crumbles, And When He’s Dying In Your Arms… You fall. You crumble. Rumble, rumble, goes the thunder, but your knees are sunk in bloodied mud And you raise your arm and splay your fingers and concentrate like you’ve never before, Regretted like never before, felt ashamed like never before, And with a push that made you feel like you’d vomit everywhere, she spills out of you, Light like a dazzling diamond day, too bright You can’t even look, eyes screwed shut, she’s so, so bright There’s no hope and no more saving one another, If we want to live, we’ll have to fight ourselves before anything other And begging ourselves to live another day, to pull through and not fall, Feels so selfish but it’s all you can do. It’s all you can do, So when he falls, and when he crumbles, and when he’s dying in your arms You push your last push and hope everything will last, Because you know what awaits after this.

They run towards you. You hardly notice. He’s in your arms and dying slowly. His eyes are shut, and for the better Because you couldn’t handle the pain reflected in them when they were open. The tears on his cheeks are yours, fallen like raindrops Onto his marred, scarred, battered skin. All is quiet. Nothing happens. They arrive and their laboured breaths Make you so aware that this isn’t the time, this isnt the place, But when has it ever been the time or place? It isn’t fair, and it only makes you cry harder. You give your instructions to them. Behind you, the guardians have crumbled. Your Sacred power, divine gift, goddess skill Taken the life from them and purified their cores. Malice hangs in the air.

They scoop him up. He hangs limp in their hold, looking more like he’s asleep than dead, And with one last sob you stoop and pick up his sword. With a faint little glow, she chimes, and suddenly you know what to do, And without a backwards glace at him (for you know it would only pain you more and you already have an odd sense of deja vu) You walk away, Korok Forest On your mind, where you can seek advice And lay the Sword That Seals the Darkness to rest. This will be an ugly poem. It will start with a bang, rumble rumble, Thunder coming out to play. Every time A guardian sighs, Hyrule Field will tense beneath dark skies. From the Shrine a boy emerges. He runs to the ledge and takes a breath Of the wild.

You'll find it down the hill to the right she said But I didn't, only apples and a bump on the head You'll find it as you pass between the cliffs he said But I didn't (tho the view from above was glorious)

You'll find it where the waters fall, where the winds whistle high, where the flames roll solid and the sands run hot (she said) But I didn't, only ghosts who said they knew me, under current and current, up draft and up-draft You'll find it in the castle, they said But I didn't (want to go). But I didn't (want to find it) But I (could not have) said.

THANK YOU FOR READING

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