GloPoWriMo – Song 11

Anchor Rain

Was a time when Nirn rain fell,
sweet, soft, and bringing life.
Now it’s always anchor rain,
dark with death and decay.

I stand at cliff’s edge,
above the anchor chains,
below the chants and moans
as worm cultists sway.

We sign one contract
for the Fighters’ Guild.
Destroy every anchor
Meridia’s order: Make Molag Bal pay

When comrades arrive
we descend, armed with staff and blade.
Fight magic with magic
And at each curse, we pray.

The Harvester of Souls shouts:
“The skins of those you love
will fly as my banners.”
But we keep our souls today.

We keep our souls
We fight another day
We hold our curses
Together we pray

When the anchor spins
And silence returns
Oh, may sweet Nirn rain
Next cloud the sun’s ray!

Daily Prompt: “write a poem that starts from a regional phrase, particularly one to describe a weather phenomenon,” from Na/GloPoWriMo.

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NaPoWriMo 2019
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