It was you, dark glint of Love’s light, who asked to see my palm … who read it , sight unseen, through the fiddle back fronds of forever after … the razor edge of your finger nail slicing my fate line in two … it bled like a fermented pomegranate eager to burst from it’s rind … becoming shell in the eons it had waited for you to sky blind seek and find me … to love even at the risk of one’s own life is to coin change purse the soul, my love … Baba will only laugh as my coins tumble glinting in the noonday’s sun … gold, silver, and copper chiming the song of the universe on their dancing down the stairs … “Truth, Love, and Simplicity ” alone … how could I have forgotten myself so easily ? … to relinquish my vogel of protection and hand my wings to you tied with pretty ribbons … the grey spade you gave me and requested I start digging … I knew it was a grave even then, yet for whom? … My Self or My Sister … she has eyes who hold a hundred hollow horrors … oh, the displeasure of being my sister’s keeper … either way we are un~forgiven by you … for not handing over the keys to some Verita’s phantom maze … I fall short of a feather gaining passage on your barge tonight … Thus, I shall run with the dog men at the river come dusk … and bleeding blue from the canker and the bramble dust … sham shackle home to beat the dawn, to greet the dead in soul, in heart, and in dread.
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How will I best be of service in the days to come? … I linger at the ice islands … white~blue upon the growing shadows of the river’s approaching slumber … beneath summer~less limbs perch and prey holds to the day eagles’ glint of razor talons sole security … mesmerized by the warmth the memories of Blue Gill can offer in such sentinel staunch hours … eyes mild for a mere mouse of a morsel to pluck from the bank below … before Bitterness and Night tear away the glory of the sky in their clamor dance … to possess and ravage the sunrise while She still dreams of becoming a Blood Orange pudding fit for Dawn to wear … to the cosmic order we all have been born … in their service they embrace all with purpose, skillful matrix … even to the barbs on their flight feathers … thus in truth I shall be the strength of a constant carrying wind.
© 2014 Carla Dawn Dunlap and S.I.A. All Rights Reserved