#58 (the beacons long unflamed)

It’s not easy

being green

but green is coursing

through my veins

in witching hours

power grows

to fight

what’s trying

to divide

the darkest skies

the brightest night

may scorching sun may storm may  snow

I praise my love

I keep it low

I hum

I chant

I dance

I spin

to nourish  wisdom

deep within

the wells are dry

I call the rain

to fill the earth

to show the pain

you never ever walk alone

my thumb caresses

beloved stone


I call my sisters, brothers, mothers

we need to be a sting

that bothers

them


who look for gain

ignoring pain

the very earth they walk on

cries

their names are hidden

tomes of paper

once woods

protect their

deepest flaws

and while they smile

I whet my claws

the shadows keep me calm

and warm

I call upon the fire’s arms

to light the beacons

long unflamed

but now

their light

cannot be tamed


I walk in beauty

dance in pain


I cry my name

and burn my shame.

16639454376_86a05e0f4e_o_phixr


24th October 2016

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One thought on “#58 (the beacons long unflamed)

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