Ivey Simpson – “Ides Aeglecwif”

Ides Aeglecwif

They say it’s unwise to poke a bear
Nevermind the boy who appears as one.
You exist and make noise, never bother to care
How your shouts rattled ears, waking my tired son.

The mind needs rest, but you took that from him
It’s not enough that you shunned him away from the light.
Where you really surprised when he emerged from his den
And tore through your men, was the kill not his right?

When he slaughtered your men, did you ever reflect
And ask who was to blame for this surprise bloodbath?
Of course you did not. You only wish to deflect
And blame my poor boy for your unexcused wrath.

Now the claw I once held when I cradled him close
Limply hangs from your doorway, a display of your win.
You exist and make noise, you shout and you boast
Never thought of his mother who lost her sweet kin.

Do you expect me to lie down when the thing I love most
Was torn from my grasp and made into a prize?
Should the mother’s instinct not drive her past morose?
And make her bear her teeth, snarling your demise?

From the lake we once rested, I will remerge again
Wipe the kelp from my brow, yellow eyes burning
Bringing steam from the bog as I trek through the rain
With a hell-mother’s rage and a guttural mourning.

These men killed my son, and so they must die
Not a human in sight once I’m done with Heorot.
Not once have I howled such a bestial cry
As I kill for my son and you reap what you sow.

I’ll gnaw at your hammer-forged, bloodstained blades
It’s cut only a fraction of the pain you’ve inflicted.
For my son, I will eat the man loved by crusades
Aeschere dies to Aglecwif, fallen and convicted.

With my vengeance dealt, I return to the bog.
Though the blood spilled does little to ease my pain.
But I have no regrets, keep your cruel dialogue:
Call me Ides Aeglecwif, name assigned since Cain.

I curl on the pile of bones in the lake
The ones he once lay in, I inhale his scent.
Beneath hero’s rot, his smell makes my heart break.
Left sonless I promise him my rage won’t relent.


Ivey Simpson is an English major/art minor at the University of West Florida. They enjoy painting, drawing, sculpting, writing plays, writing/mastering tabletop role-playing games, and composing poetry. Their work is heavily inspired by classic literature, high fantasy, and mythology. They hope to someday get their master’s degree in playwriting and work on scripts for plays and video games.