For Gwyn on Calan Mai

There is a place where tears come from
that reminds me of You

and here we are
on the day of Your death.
The death You are fated to die every year.

Every year a part of me dies with You
like a tear to be buried
in that place

of cold stone

to rise again 
like spring water 
on the day of Your return.

We will rise again from burial.
We will repair what has been destroyed,
by the deepest Annuvian magic turn sorrow into joy.