The Silver Children

Who knows, once the game is begun

Who struck first, and who bore the first blow?

Who remembers, when the dance is done

Whose heart first grew hollow, whose throat tight?

Revenge is the memory-killer

The shade across time's window.

What now will bind, when no rope holds

Fast the hound against the tether?

What silent chain can keep us still

Before the surging tide and wretched weather?

The human cord, our merest heart

A soft smile by the warm hearthstone.