Tag: betwixt and between

  • to hills

    Photo by Connor DeMott on Unsplash
    a fog carries that
    pale lost to white
    steel rails to hills
    raven calling

    she brings children
    in skirts she gathers
    staring straight she
    glides barefoot stride
    her night velvet
    whispered crushing

    hand out, calling
    my voice hoarse
    in the fading forth

  • blood before

    standing stones
    Photo by Suzanne Rushton on Unsplash
    i river waiting for
    flutter you feather
    polishing stone for
    night long coming
    wrap hair ebon 
    undress in longing
    so sacrifice to own
    to you of you and
    lay out autumn
    there between
    the river bare
    to take me pale
    before the blood
    before

  • blackwater

    of godless ways wandering
    between gallows gone to grey
    the rocky shore's blackwater
    framed in deadwood propped 
    in seaweed and broken oar
    waiting for the sluagh's arms
    to embrace a heart of coal
    the company of ravens and
    a host of crows waiting
                              waiting
                              waiting
               for snows to fall

  • fell and stone

    Photo by Sina Bakhtiari on Unsplash
    hands stained in alder
    scarlet against the driven snow
    this blood runs to stone
    scattered over the path of fells
    heather rimed in white
    her sun rimed in snow
    below and now she rises
    blood on fell and stone

  • roads and halls

    sage bundles in a pot for smudging
    Photo by Ginny Rose Stewart on Unsplash

    I walked the beaded hallways red with you and you did not see, not really. Yes yes that’s very beautiful you said as we walked not the beauty of buckskin and ruddy skin. You saw only the patterned beads.

    You did not hear the heartbeat drums causing the red hallways to thrum and pulse as you raced towards the light, making sure you could say you had experienced it all for yourself, but you did not hear, nor see.

    You did not feel their blood on your skin, nor the sweat, nor the tears. You said you knew it all, had read it in a book you couldn’t recall the title of, nor author. And you pulled me along, not letting me linger to “feel the feels”. You told me you would find the book in the library for me so I could feel.

    I reached for the medicine up in the night, but you bound me to prevent “my escape”.

    I spoke to ravens and stones.

    You just stared at me.