the sun fell as a winter tide concealed its ghosts,
the moon forgotten in its temporary shadow.
i was taken when the stars unknotted their light,
the hills of my ancestors disappearing behind me.
inside the strangling weave of lessons on whiteness
are whispers of the ceremony of raven.
i hear the light between unremarkable syllables,
and remember love in the moonflowers, but pretend
not to notice—their language is a god faithless
in his own creation. the ground pulls from them
like a receiving blanket. my feet hold the ground
as it crumbles.
1873 by Ever Jones | Garden Lavender Poetry Reed Diffuser Set
$15.00Price
