A Poem for The Young Wolf

This is a poem for the Young Wolf,

Whose only sin was to love the way a boy should, forgetting all his promises

Who had hair of red oak tree and eyes of the river blue,

His heart and soul like the long lost summer breeze,

His body born to a winters day

As summer came to its end and the cold winds rose, his time came,

Time for bravery, time for death

With his true self by his side, his true self in its fur and with blood on its tongue,

His true self with a deadly growl between its teeth,

His true self, ever so young, ever so foolish but always brave

He rode to every battle, with his true self by his side,

Without a father, with no blood brother but with all his winter brothers

With his brothers, soon to die in the halls of a grey castle,

With his mother, soon to join the river

He rode to battle with his true self, soon to become one with his true self forever.

Silent will be his grave, lions will walk past,

He will be standing by his own grave,

His blood always cold, his true self, now his only self

His eyes, the eyes of a direwolf, his crown, the crown of a Dead Young Wolf

Still the lions will walk past, and the lions will say,

He won all his battles and still lost his head

And all the animals of the great forest will repeat

“He won all his battles but still lost his head “

Defne Kartal- 01.02.2013