one mother reached thru

flame to lift her child away

refusing to burn

and if you can.t walk then

dance among the pines with

spine and lung. when chaos

brings collapse in order for

our balance to maintain / we

sing and those who will not

speak may hum a long

with life it self. our rhythm is

the beating of her heart.

survival was the art up on a

rival of a winter.s dark.

we bury our selves til we can

not bear it any more. the heat

we make foretold in flint and

stone. whet stone to flint. and

kindling which killing flesh

might heal a blade. we gather

that we need yet mourn no off

ering beside. no path except for

that which trails behind. in

time: sweet nectars become

bitter. still their comfort can

we find. one stranger we could

hardly recognize revealed him

self my mother.s child. we

gathered by a flame for many

hours til we tired. i held its

smoke within as he departed

from my eyes.

this forest hallowed

hour. her tree strong as mother.s

spine. we slept inside.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: