I.
a fly seeks water
the child swats at his face
dark coal, dark heat
the bloodless sand swirls, swallows
whole, the imprint of thirst
II.
soft suction, warm breath
grain by grain loved by the mist
entombing memories, save for the soul
in gray mouths and deep bellies
jewels of life are guarded
until the time of hatching, of rebirth
III.
truth, the feather cries, truth!
all lies in ink, the fiber brittle
all ties in blood, in smooth script crippled
light as wind, the memory of the word
fly, the feather cries, fly!
IV.
from bough to grave
from grave to sky
from sky to earth
from dirt to life
Author notes
Just rambling, really...
When one asks, one takes a step towards enlightment.
Comments
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bravo
hey haven't heard from you in a while; thought I'd check in and see what you've been up to. Nice write here. Though I know you were writing on a much broader scale (concerning mediums rather than places) for some reason I couldn't get Egypt out of my mind while reading this.
Ah well- I have been known to be a wee bit strange, so there you have it.
~Cheers
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You seem to have disappeared from the face of the Pacific? Wherefore art thou, Abernaith?
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Edna, you still around, love? I've been busying myself with lots of things for the past few...years, er...(sorry) with school. Looking forward to post-grad studies, if ever. But anyway, worry not, you are always in my thoughts. In fact, just recently, I took this class on Modern novels and we read Henry Miller's Tropic of Cancer and watched a film based on it called 'Henry and June'. Both strongly reminded me of you...
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