Friday, September 9, 2016

Sheikha A. writes

A moment of consequence 

when would the day become brave? 
when secrets no longer carry non-expiration dates?
when words become sour but reek putrid of honesty 
and the tongues in us with courage find parity?

when will the lilacs finally reveal their scent 
like a bird at night that tires from a day of pretend?
when will the owl open its eyes to the stark day 
and the raven find a yellow dawn at indigo starlit bays?

when the tides have retired, will they never again bask?
nowhere is where the way falls by fire-steeled tracks.
when will the bells sound by the man on the moon
and on a plank of sharks, I can with blood festoon?

  Owl and Crow -- Caitlin Hackett

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