Old Story New Story

Posted on Oct 4, 2017 | 0 comments


While the sons stagger through the mud

grow white forked headstones and mothers cry

while the woman holds the blue iris and stares

over the broken road on which her lover lies

while daughters face the sweetly spoken angels

lining their path with stones and soft-breath sighs

while the child stirs restless on the cold floor,

dreaming of water, fire, a warm room, quiet.


Tigers begin the redemption prowl, swing scythes

milky words from the sky begin to mumble, falter

rocks placed in front of the cave start to sway

green truth presses against the earth, people run

dogs scatter birds fly – on the bare cliff Andromeda

looks up sees Justice begin her weary walk home.








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