A Wizard

by Cliff Lake

“Wizard” he was called,
And had advised many a chieftain,
Though they would not admit,
Preferring to guard their reputations.
But they were seen arriving and leaving
When troubles visited the clans.
“Magician” he was named,
Though his potions and powders,
Were but recipes forgotten
Handed to him by mother and aunt,
Or kept in ancient annal.
But many would come there
In the latest hour
To seek cure
For ills they could not name.
“Sorcerer” he was said to be,
Though his knowledge
Was hidden in old tomes
He allowed any to read.
Those that did
Would study long
And often left
To succor clans distant.
“Witch” he was proclaimed,
And although he was not shunned,
He was avoided,
Lest one become spelled
By that he would teach if allowed.
For he would tell of wonders
And the nature of things
And some would listen most, or too, often.
“Seer” and “shaman” or “medium”
And many other names besides,
Were given him beyond his hearing,
But he would prefer “professor.”
For that is what he was once called
Before the Swift Collapse.
But no one called him that,
For they knew not what it meant,
Nor why he wished to teach them things
They thought they had no use for,
Nor why he sighed so often.
Still, they came to him at need,
And left just a bit too quickly,
Lest his magic harm them,
Or teach them things,
They dare not question.
And always behind them,
The long sigh,
And a sad visage,
Unbearable to see.

Cliff Lake 12/21/2023
Copyright © Clifford Lake 2023