Friday, July 22, 2011
There is a moon tonight . . .
shining over the city bridge . . .
the metallic span is sparkling
with the ice of his cold touch . . .
the distance of uncounted sighs
stretch further than the end of time . . .
and the cries from the waters beneath. . .
scratch with rough fingers
at the shoulders of my back . . .
giving me a chill
that reaches beyond my dry bones . . .
a sullen island,
an appearance of trees, shaken
by a wistful breeze . .
leaves and branches, flaking off the
elusive black trunks . . . a shining,
and then a quick dance
black cutouts . . . shapes
fluttering down to the
bleakness beneath . . .
I find it hard to be
in this empty space of time . . .
a spear of light overhead
a star flashes
into the stillness . . .
a solid emptiness inside of me . . .
pours out like a pitcher
of ice cold water and
fills the cups of my eyes . . .
to the brim
and then spills over
to salt my face . . .
Posted by Wolfsong at 7/22/2011 10:43:00 PM
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
|Lizard on castle wall, France|
After the wandering
through the land of the sun . . .
where the dying is done . . .
this pain severs our souls . .
and we are prostrate with grief . .
our children's spirits have withdrawn
from the fury of the heat . . .
this family's heart is deeply carved
by the blazing passion
of the angry gods ..
we have followed the stars
faintly lighting our trail . ..
we have wandered
and suffering by night. . .
diminished by white hot day . . .
our feet are bleeding. . .
scored deeply by piercing stones
defending against our way . . .
our breasts are withered,
sunken eyes like waterless wells . .
the bones of our backs . . .
cast deep black lines
sketches on our ashy skins . . .
a shadowy tale
of this journey through death . .
|statue in medieval village, France|
keen eyed ravenrustles feathers over head,
waiting . . .
as our people fall in the heat . .
a black feather drops
a single offering to loss . . .
the soul is weary
as the dry rivers flow . . .
and forever lay down
a trace in the desert . .
a trail of salt
in blazing white . . .
a silent sacrifice to an angry
god's fire . . ..
|detail on building in Rocamadour, France|