Wise in names
He frames
A maze of mirror-words
To bind what lies in shadows
To itself
Wings folded
The past sleeps at last
As daylight creeps
To peek out slow-fast
At its own birth
Inhaling the scent of the earth
We sing the old tongue
No words
Only the dark hum
Of ghost birds
Calling deeper forces
To come
From unseen sources
The boundaries melt
What is lost is felt
And lost again
The stars awaken
For living men to see
Before they pass beyond this world
Through this broken looking glass
To the other side
© 2022 Julie Flanders
Image: Melissa Nucera
(https://www.etsy.com/people/ThisYearsGirl)
April is Poetry Month Day 29
October Process 