and the whole world
has been far too enraptured
by the shadow of this place;
it’s time
that the curtain is torn
wide open.

she pierced the root of the tree
and i stood at the foot of that tree
ready to bleed
and she took me
to what it could be
sealed the branch’s seed
inside me.

wild wolf
i call now to you
to the mountain
to the river
where my bow-slung arrows hit the sky
they laid life beside the dead
raised on the hill
and now
if i died
would the knowledge of loss
appease you?

i knelt there and prayed
until the sign of the Sun appeared in my eyes
now marked life, it said,
the upper two years
and the following thirty-nine
now add nine more and this
is her time
to die.

let her hair float freely,
so spread against her forehead, then,
in the fragrance of piney woods
let her voice fly
on meadow fluff
’til the winds carry it far away
for the whole world to hear her song

spider weaves her home
so intricately
and holds
with eight great sturdy arms
her gold

but no
i can’t be consumed with the loss
it’s sacrifice
the last time:

(remember what you were.)

(what died.)

(move on.)

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