You can’t heal the riven rock, you say: that’s not this journey’s purpose. When you wailed the world’s first wailing, your heart breaking, you didn’t melt into bones on the … Continue reading Poem: Awen

You can’t heal the riven rock, you say: that’s not this journey’s purpose. When you wailed the world’s first wailing, your heart breaking, you didn’t melt into bones on the … Continue reading Poem: Awen
I don’t know which door to walk through, or first to carve it from the air and intention: that opening, a gap like a lost tooth, the hag’s secret cave, … Continue reading Poem: Emergence, part three
Maybe that light is already sparking, the bonfire already kindled. Maybe you’re already in that stream of torches bringing the blessing from the hilltop to the fields. Maybe those other … Continue reading Poem: Terra firma
At the last moment, you weep. Your husband, against whose shoulder you lean like a rose, strokes the silk of your hair. He is silent. And so are you as … Continue reading Poem: Nestia
Walk through the door, the sky-blue door marked with a feather, a white feather. You remember their smiles as they welcomed you, the eyes that caught the light from you, … Continue reading Poem: Swan lake
The doves are hunting the hemlocks, humming their mournful tune. They pace the needled branches. If they’ve built a nest, I don’t know precisely where, only that they first appeared … Continue reading Poem: Hidden Nests
You don’t always get the sense of things in the rain, the silver wet clinging and beading your lashes like a purse, the percussion somewhere between rattle and cymbal and … Continue reading Poem: Rainy run
We walk through the twilight door, don’t we, that delicate shade light off a knife, brittle and bright fading to softness as we ourselves do, gone luxurious in the day’s … Continue reading Poem: Twilight
You get old and your teeth wear out. Mountains weather and next thing you know, they’re gravel for your driveway, the stones escaping one by one, pushed by pressure into … Continue reading Poem: Gravel
You say it is the wrong time, beloved: the snow has stolen the young spring away and nothing rises in the marsh, no songs thread from the trees today. The … Continue reading Poem: Arkichronia