Centuries of gifts
13 June 2020
Walk with me
in meadows of green
I am witch
of the land
The time is but creeping sand
passing through fingers
Death lingers
on the land’s outskirts
Body hurts
as it breeds
swallows fears that it yet feeds
Dichotomy’s stance
The shining
Magic awoken
from my heart
to my hands
They give and don’t make demands
Centuries of gifts
Reading of the poem:
Antaeus – Kyrie
Geetha Balvannanathan's Blog - Isis Tratum