This poem came from yesterday's Poetry Fishbowl, prompted and sponsored by synnabar. The tale of "The Children of Llyr" comes from Welsh tradition, and so I chose a Welsh form for this poem, the cyrch a chwta. It has very regular rhyme except for the end, where it doubles back on itself. I liked the way that echoed the twisting of time, memory, and body in this poem ... which plays on the image of swans as the animal of the soul, and how transformation can shake loose all sorts of unexpected things.
The Swan-Children’s Song
– cyrch a chwta (a Welsh form)
We are the Children of Llyr,
Cursed by our step-mother’s fear,
Turned into swans on the mere.
But she and our father dear
Never dreamed what we’d do here:
Recall lives of a lost year.
This is the thought that afflicts:
We were Picts, slain by Welsh spear.