little finches in your head. and they pinch, pinch, pinch
but what is left to wake up.
awakened: rising shadows, rigid hands.
bandage tightly – does it remind you of the rings you used to wear? where you belonged. you used to be
a lady of many rings, more bird than nest. (the harpies scream)
(harpies sing of truth and times that are, gloating. we are so little. the present falls on us
and we are so much less.)
you need to send apologies to the finches. you plant acacias. you call your ears
traitors
and then there are dreams that leave you with a silent glow. the shadow forgotten, the past
engaged in ballroom dances, vivid. you recall
to walk through gloaming by LadyBitterblue, literature
Literature
to walk through gloaming
this is the treasure we seek:
wings out of tune with the world
& names to be swallowed like berries,
dark forest stains on the fingers.
oh to have forest stains on these fingers
this is the treasure we hold:
the forest has always been here.
~
and here, i was a weary wanderer
and my fire held no magic, we were no wild things, we watched
as the silence picked up our broken pieces to examine
our weakness, as we could not break it in return,
wisdom in vain.
in whispers,
i run back and take
all that is left and i believe in the magic
that always warmed my skin
now, i keep a jar of ashes.
and here, let me place it
gently next to your pillo