One Of Jehanne's Men Poem by Eli Spivakovsky

little sparks fall from your eyes
O don't be downcast
I have seen you with your hair undone
like a curtain I can lay on
an arrow right through the heart
and I saw you with my silver-burst-eyes
liquid poured from those very same eyes, my sweet
and you were so brave in battle
you drank from a cherub's cup
you hovered around in heaven
before you tore the arrow out
before the blood consumed your mail
and I felt that blood
and anointed myself with it
a holy wound, let's call it
so soft to touch
and it bled right there upon my hand
and I ate it
There! Gone!
And I gave it to myself
but you still lay there
lifeless as one of my dolls
together we could unite France!
but my men are dying one at a time
shallow graves for them all
sometimes I visit them
and the blood turns to green
and there are only valleys of soft moss
where my brave men lie
(He let out his hair for me)
He let out his hair for me!