Ravens And Things...
Samhain is stalking the calendar like a spirit out the corner of my eye,
Mist on the edge of my vision tinging amber and russet.
I walk among tall trees thinking of drums and journeys,
Going places inside without a step,
I look for the remnants of the year and wonder at the fruit of our harvest to come.
Certainly I place the pumpkins in their hallowed spaces,
A gesture to feast over famine that soft-touches the heart,
With memories of a time when everything depended on such grace.
When I ride the inner path,
I do it on two wheels pedaling strong as the raven flies by my side,
Something ancient that eats the fear out from behind my eyeballs,
Popping them back in like a passed-over snack.
Far away there is a young girl all alone who left this Earth for a dream,
The husk of her resides in a room somewhere across the continent,
And tears are dammed up like a river behind my eyes,
For I tell her teenage shade in that lonely room how much we miss her,
Even as she goes about her room as if I weren't even there.
I watch the world turn tawny trying to lure the frost,
Milkweeds bursting and flocks flocking on the wind,
I watch the Moon hang low and melancholy,
I see the night coming and feel the need for candles waxing,
Every subtext tells me of these ancient changes,
Every hint of periphery shedding green.
I know when my drum rings again that I'll plead with her ghost,
Asking for the forgiveness of this world's cruelty we never knew was needed,
All my ancestors are waiting in the hall with muted voices,
Whispering messages to the Raven for the day my ears open.
Autumn is here,
As always she brings shades and shadows,
Beautiful colors to haunt us,
Reminders of a year slowly dying.
Listen softly - and don't look so hard.
AquarianM
By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 10/01/2012
For Aunt Felicia.
Samhain is stalking the calendar like a spirit out the corner of my eye,
Mist on the edge of my vision tinging amber and russet.
I walk among tall trees thinking of drums and journeys,
Going places inside without a step,
I look for the remnants of the year and wonder at the fruit of our harvest to come.
Certainly I place the pumpkins in their hallowed spaces,
A gesture to feast over famine that soft-touches the heart,
With memories of a time when everything depended on such grace.
When I ride the inner path,
I do it on two wheels pedaling strong as the raven flies by my side,
Something ancient that eats the fear out from behind my eyeballs,
Popping them back in like a passed-over snack.
Far away there is a young girl all alone who left this Earth for a dream,
The husk of her resides in a room somewhere across the continent,
And tears are dammed up like a river behind my eyes,
For I tell her teenage shade in that lonely room how much we miss her,
Even as she goes about her room as if I weren't even there.
I watch the world turn tawny trying to lure the frost,
Milkweeds bursting and flocks flocking on the wind,
I watch the Moon hang low and melancholy,
I see the night coming and feel the need for candles waxing,
Every subtext tells me of these ancient changes,
Every hint of periphery shedding green.
I know when my drum rings again that I'll plead with her ghost,
Asking for the forgiveness of this world's cruelty we never knew was needed,
All my ancestors are waiting in the hall with muted voices,
Whispering messages to the Raven for the day my ears open.
Autumn is here,
As always she brings shades and shadows,
Beautiful colors to haunt us,
Reminders of a year slowly dying.
Listen softly - and don't look so hard.
AquarianM
By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 10/01/2012
For Aunt Felicia.
Love is the heart's bridge - it's connection to all other souls.
Loving words can work miracles.
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