26. Nov, 2016

Being Alive

Stalking wild beasts
in the forest l
uncover tracks of
myself: mirrors are
everywhere. They reach
deep into my North
like an arrow my angel
struck with intent.
And l am stricken:
my wound only
heals for a while.
People and words
fall inside and
it opens wide all over
again. But as I
feel the pain
a jewel-strewn path
unwinds in the mud.
I follow wherever
it leads: at times
it gets covered up
then it sparks and
shines as a raven's
feathers turn blue
in the light.
And the sky turns a stone
into a polished pearl.

Frances Fay