Despondent, I fell silent, hardly listened while
they told me as a criminal I had no rights.
I guess I was too busy living in denial
as they wrapped my wrists in bonds too tight.
They led me on parade through crowded streets and lanes.
In shock, I stumbled in a stupor, feeling numb,
and robbing them, I guess, of punishing through shame.
Not even angry; that would surely come.
They put me in this cell and left me quite alone,
no word to me how long they’ll leave me in the clink.
I’m sickened and afraid and wearied to the bone.
What happens now? I cannot even think.
My sorry story’s winding down, so let’s review:
I guess it started in the shop of Marisand,
when Aeronwy did ask if favor I would do
and I, I offered her a helping hand.
But let’s go further back: to Eilo’s I’m beholden,
entrapped by expectation through their hand-picked handout,
in bondage held by Meuric and his handcuffs golden,
imprisoned from within as well without.
And not just me, take Einion: he will expect
from Aeronwy her gratitude, at least, for payment.
For my arrest, in turn, he’ll want to gain respect
or to advance within his regiment.
We all of us have hands out begging for our tuppence,
imagining a network built of helping hands,
but what if it’s a spiderweb of codependence
that keeps us tangled in its sticky strands?
I know without some help I would not have a thing
but everyone is after pieces of the pie
and every gift, it seems, arrives attached with strings
to suck my life and blood completely dry.