A Song of Rebirth
~~~~~
They said the bird was dead
murdered at the hands
of the black laced harpies
who pounded the air
with their fists of furies
and struck the death blow
in the dank of night
when the pond
glowed with a silver sickle
So they left me alone
to sit with the corpse
on its deathbed of clover and dirt
and I watched through the night
while the moon sighed
in crystal slivers
of cut-glassed water
But a dead bird won’t shimmer
with the sky still deep in its wings
and the moon won't sparkle
from a blank beaded memory
staring back
from the cold empty space
on the other side
of never
So when that night
swallowed itself in its grief
and belched the black weeds
of nothing
back in my face
I saw the ghost raise and take flight
on blue silver tipped wings
soaring back into the golden sky
and sunshine
~~~~~
Honorable mention
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