In ritual bat-leather,

Owl-face feather

Moon-edge masks.

We are among Gaia’s favourite assassins;



We bring our eventual-certainty solutions

In response to cold-crow call.

Silently, bearing ancestor-bone handled,

 Virgin, holly-bladed weapons,

We stretch towards you like

Slow-motion marionettes:

The paler the wounding-wood

The swifter leaks the life-blood.

4 thoughts on “Among

  1. Chatty Owl says:

    Wow. Simply wow. This line: “In response to cold-crow call.” it’s so good. Wow, im simply speechless of this poem.

  2. LadyBlueRose's Thoughts Into Words says:

    this is filled to the rim with Gaia’s thoughts I do believe…
    as I am hearing a crow get settled in for the night in a tree by my window..
    I like this very much…Thank you for being you within your words…
    Take Care…You Matter…

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