blog description

Old women talk about old things: history, myth, magic and their
checkered pasts, about what changes and what does not.

Wednesday, August 31, 2011

The Dance

In the tradition of the Cailleach, oh great Bone Mother, who gathers and breathes into the hollow bones, I offer this journey. In the time before time, Death was not separate from the Great Cycle that also included Life. Life and Death danced, and found one another exquisite...

Death is courting me

and I am entranced

Cold winds bend

the brown grasses

in his world

silver crescent moon


in the red sky

High upon a hilltop

he stands

his ragged scarecrow cloak

flapping about him


with his hollow eyes

When I embrace him

he is love, agony, passion,

and insubstantial bones

He caresses my face

with the fine branches

of his fingers

and I tell him

he is bare

and beautiful




my eyes are full of him

and we dance

without bounds

in the blue-black void

scythe and crystal sword

marking time

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