betwixt and between now.
the man in the bog
holds out a golden fish,
"take it, lass.
claim yours."
and i do.
scales become skin
and the gold fashions
itself into a drum
that pulses
in the pulmonary cave.
grandmother sits there
and lights a heart fire
that burns the way clear.
wild galloping in the distance.
i am aonghus's daughter
of the stone and cliff clan.
the ancestors step through.
the veil is thin
and the bones in my body
are theirs.
(copyright 2011)
2 comments:
Lovely and magical!
Thanks, Nance. I feel the ancestors are thick these days. We're so close to Samhain!
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