We refuse to be worn lean
by this cruel grief
like a wretched, ragged cloth,
splintered at the seams
by unseemly sorrow,
made ugly by weeping.
We will howl at the moon unabated
and my Sisters will hear
this savage, sacred song ~
they will wail
their wild wrath
in harmony ~
we shall dance
through this damnable darkness,
quenching our thirst as we go ~
arm in arm,
shoulder to shoulder,
our arrows piercing
this palpable pain
until it fades
into oblivion.
We reject this agony outright
and will not own
these tattered hearts ~
together,
we shall stitch
a new tomorrow...




Hetohke'e *















~Tia



39 old applause
