Cicatrices

March 13th, 2007
I am a tree the sky is stretching, a fixed point
in an endless circling of ghost-clouds, sun and moon
so lonely I know I’m not aloneI am a beckoning of leaves, radiant faces,
riotous tongues set loose by the chaotic storm

O inconsolable wind, sing me sights I’ll never see
but for falling, bark becomes loam between silver stones,
home for this creaking torso of steaming tears

Although the fiery flash at night lashes a black scar,
still my burnished skin in the rain does shine and shine

What does it matter if the song sung is starlight
or morning’s boisterous bird-scolding? Even
as the body shivers, the spirit dances

Copyright © 2007 Kathleen Flowers. May not be republished without permission.

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