Sunday, December 29, 2013

a redeemed tree




In the thin spaces a chill wind stirs,
Eagle and Raven hover over fates,
Peering through white-clad limbs
At a lone figure in a dark coat.

She has been lost in a thicket of words,
Wondering if is it possible to gather
Snow pearls and distill them into ice wine.
They are not yet ripe, she decides.

Memories shroud her with shiverings
Of an amber agony, of cruel enchantments,
Mirrored movements in pantomime,
Of shackles, and grimaces bone-deep.

(Yet only a small pebble, when placed
Near whole boulders glutted with sorrow,
Chanting a grievous list of complaints
to the crystal heart of earth.)


If only she might emulate a tree, lift her
Branches to this rising blessing,
Free her thoughts from their bonds,

Spilling a river of violet flame
Onto the eve of Epiphany.



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