Under this August morn’s spying haze
under this razor throated crow’s perch
far from the rampart’s loom
under green amulets of dew pixels
under moss gathered rocks from evening’s last vapors
clear the earth’s tender palm to a granite bed
where stands a lone woman, her pleated robes frozen,
white as daylight flowing to her feet
hair wrapped in a wreath
braids pulled by the restless wind’s hand;
she spreads her wings in fury
her mighty sword drawn high above the meadow
ready to tame these advancing forces
ready to tame this entropy
this circle of suffering, this creation
marked by names of those who lived
and breathed here, carved in pillars and obelisks
mothers, fathers, husbands, wives
newborn and still born from centuries past
all lay beneath these stone fields.
You’ve seen enough to know
that keeping up is more difficult now
ever since this madness
slipped its note under my door
pelted my inside with my outside
blinded me with this unholy darkness
under the morning moon’s mantis glow.
Stone Lady, with lilies at your feet,
hold my weary head in your hands, once more
guard against those that have brought me to this edge
lifted this viper to my brow;
let the truth settle me among these vines
let the cool forgiving shadows
of dancing maple and magnolia
place the past squarely over me
let time’s quill with all its questions
run dry and unanswered.
Thrashing about this place
has left my pain in pain.
Just leave me with enough light
to know that it was you.
