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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