Friday, April 1, 2016

Lament Of Old Kitchen Witch

Lament Of Old Kitchen Witch
2016 04 01

Beyond all sense of time and space I float
alone without thick body on frail boat
that bumps insistent on wet soggy shore
where I never want to live any more.

I see his face through mist appear at dawn
while I am tending flowers on wet lawn
for he brings thunderstorms and dreary rain
that never ceases trying to heal my pain.

Dread face of war on stamping horse arrives
who leads wild warriors looking for wives
so I must hide where sunlight never glows
and sit alone where river of tears flows.

My shadow stretches far beyond dead hills
though words bleed weeping from all broken quills
when body of my spirit shivers hollow
because I could not follow my dead love.

I cannot hope my love will return soon
while all my faith is drained by sun and moon
that whirls around me where I wander lost
alone without regret on cracking coast.

Ten thousand years are built upon my bones
when empires sprout as mushrooms from my bones,
castles and churches that ingest my groans,
and billions of people dream in my bones.

I crawl on hands and knees in laughing rain
where oak tree sprouts from sharp ache of my heart
where ravens on my arms steal beaming light
and roaring wind snatches me from despair.

I knock on castle door at flash of dawn
and sit alone all day on frosted lawn
while boy who pledged eternal love last night
feasts by crackling fire and ignores my plight.

When he appears and holds my smiling skull
I whisper, teasing, you made me your fool
when you promised to crown me as your queen,
then left me bleeding in mute forest grove.

My head was full of foolish dreams last year
when your words tricked me to give you my fear
and now our baby lies dead in my arms
while you seduce that girl with painted charms.

I sit alone in sunless grove of lies
and weave illusions with blank dreaming eyes
that multiply my tale ten thousand times,
every woman fooled by your glamorous rhymes.

I trudge slow routine from kitchen to well,
cooking meals for old king and all his clan
who dance in horror of visions they fear
from red mushrooms I crumbled in their soup. 

No comments:

Post a Comment