*
This dark bird flies through the sunlight in my soul and
everything inside of me trembles with dark joy and luminous sorrow.
He is the arrow I let loose with my first cry come home to haunt me.
To free me. To root me to my own spot and to dislodge what needs
dislodging.
He places a burning ember between my lips and one in each palm and bids me
speak.
But he’s hoping I’ll hold my tongue.
*
wonderful. i was born with this profile etched on the inside of my eyelids. this is my ‘black mack’, who talks to me, or me through him >>and like the last prince to receive his mantle of nettles in ‘the wild swans’- i have one arm,>>one black wing. >>great images in here, scott. the roiling sky above, this dark crow below. i feel i belong. >>k.
Karen->>The portents are everywhere, and magic inhabits the limbs of the creatures, the breathing of the sea, and the stony silence of the earth.>>It’s good to have good company.>>>yrs->>Scott