The Blackbird Ballad

An excerpt from The Blackbird Ballad by Liv Ross

Today, we’ve got something fun for you—an excerpt from Liv Ross’s new book, The Blackbird Ballad, which comes out today! Congratulations to Liv.

The Forest is, by valleys, creased,
And for some time, all seems at peace.
Though birds are calling, none he knows,
As Rocas walks the morning through.
Midday arrives, and Rocas finds
His hunger fades as journey winds.
He does not stop, and does not eat.
One foot after the other keeps
Him steadily upon his way.
Night falls and runs once more to day.
At last, he finds a place to rest.
How far he’s come, he cannot guess.
His heart grows cold as passions fade.
He fears a grave mistake he’s made,
To face this Faerieland alone.
His trembling heart now turns to home.
Why did he leave his friend behind?
He knows Bran’s heart is sure and kind.
Bran would have helped him find the cure.
Of this, he is completely sure.
Then he thinks upon the danger.
Faerieland is surely stranger
Than anything that they have faced.
Would it have laid poor Bran to waste?
His courage wavers on the brink
Until the stag appears to drink.
It stands and bows its antlered head
Down to the singing river bed.
Rocas raises shaking hands.
His body follows, slowly stands.
He takes a step toward the beast
And carefully extends his reach
To touch the twitching, tawny flank,
Find solace by the river’s bank
Of something known in this strange wood,
A promise of enduring good.
Even alone, here is a friend
To bring him hope of better ends.
He rests his palm upon its hide,
Then feels a pain bloom in his side.
An arrow, in his ribs, takes root
Like a black and deadly shoot.
A black-clad hunter tears the brush
And spurs his mount into a rush
After the stag that disappears.
Now burdened with new wounds and fears,
Rocas cries out, dashes away,
And in his flight, he quickly strays.
The branches whip and claw and scratch
Until he comes upon a patch
Of sunlight in this fearsome wood,
A clearing where no tree has stood
Since elder days when burned a fire—
A princeling fae’s funeral pyre.
Breathless at last, Rocas collapses,
Feels the place where broken shaft is
Sealing the wound, stopping the blood
From spilling in a scarlet flood.
He rests a while beneath the sun
And lets his thought wander and run.
When he stands, it’s just a scratch
That gives a minor painful catch.
He tears his shirt sleeve for a dressing,
And gives thanks for this tender blessing.
He doesn’t know the poisoned tip
Has scored his heart, the slightest prick,
Just enough to work its magic
In his soul, a black and tragic
Withering force to curdle hope.
It wraps his heart with thorny ropes.
Not knowing this, he stands and looks,
And seeks the path back to the brook.
He’s seeking, seeking through the wood,
But scrub brush and leaf-litter-mould
Leaves him no hint nor any sign
Of ways through ancient, hoary pines.
His wounded heart starts to despair,
But Mary’s blessing meets him there.
A blackbird sings out overhead,
Feathers sable with shoulders red.
It flutters through the branches slow
Enough for Rocas to follow.
It leads him back onto the road
Where sunlight through the branches glows.
It stays before him as he goes.
A hopeful song, it trills and crows.

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The Blackbird Ballad is available now HERE.

About Liv Ross

Liv Ross is an urban monk, a poet, and essayist writing in and from the Ozarks. In addition to writing, Liv practices gardening, pipe-smoking, leather-working, music-making, and mischief. She has been published in The New Verse Review, The Front Porch Republic, Silence and Starsong, Solum Journal, and VoeglinView. She also serves as Managing Editor for Traces Journal. Her first book, The Blackbird Ballad, is being released today from Solum Literary Press. She can also be found on Instagram @liv_ross_poetry, or her substack, https://substack.com/@theabbeyofcuriosity.