Saturday, March 14, 2015

The anchor of a constellation
listens for the salt of pure sound.
The feather of Ma'at on the wind,
the sign of Miriam on her palms

reminds a mountain of silence
how music was an entire ocean
she conjured with her sistrum
he swore he'd never forget--

a stranger's eyes scorching
a brittle rose in midwinter
under a ceiling of lapis sky
the antidote meets its poison.


raw poetry by donna snyder said...

Such beauty and significance in so few lines and words. I'm so glad I found it.

Iulia Flame said...

Thank you for stopping by, Donna. xx

The mountains held up the sky like pillars, releasing plumes of pebbles, streams and silt as far as my girlish eyes could follow, and w...

popular on this site