**A poem of two perspectives. It was written while I thought about the two main characters of my (other) novel. Aida's people are a race descended from Dryads, and... well, I hate to give the plot away, so glean what you will from the poem.**

Aida:
Upon a river, quickly streaming
swollen with the rain
carrying along the dreamings
washing past our pain

Zander:
Beside a river, quickly streaming,
watching you come near
I hear you falling, screaming,
I see your eyes of fear

Aida:
Out of the river, cold and shaking
I realize that I have crossed
I must leave before the breaking
of the peace that is now lost

Zander:
You cross the river, quickly darting
into the thick, dark trees
I wonder at your parting
with such a hurry on your feet

Aida:
Far from the river, I am thinking
in this wound I have flung salt
and now my heart is sinking
for I know it is my fault

You must not know about my secret
for my people I uphold
I must stay away, and keep it
before the horror all unfolds

A border accidentally crossed at night
is now the cause of burning fear
It will never be all right
while we flee like wounded deer

Zander:
Far from the river I can't stay
I want to come again
I wonder if there is no way
we could still be friends?

Aida:
In this darkest hour, I look to you
for my own have cast me out
I find that I trust you despite
my constant, inner doubts

But betrayal now so deep
like autumn leaves I fall away
there is a secret I cannot keep
even for another day

Zander:
I swear I knew nothing of
this fire that burns within
and ever pulses through my blood
and may swallow everything

They say that it should bring such hate
bursting forth from my burning hands
They say that it should desecrate
your peaceful forest lands

Both:
But if we two join together now,
it is our only chance
to change the things that forward plow
and tear and chop and crash

So find the truth and halt the pain
stop the slaughter of innocents
and then perhaps we may remain
in a peaceful, safe distance


...


Aida: 
My heart is oak, your blood is fire
but there are such things I feel...
If wood and fire become only ash,
let yarrow grow, and heal.