November 9, 2007 at 8:30 pm | In Lore, feral, loss, love, poem, sea Lore Wild Feral | 3 Comments

~Calling to Her~

Wild woman

Has Hybrid lore

Feral to the bone

Renewed each turn of moon tide

Her name is home

      ~ ~ ~   ~ ~ ~

~Tracking~

You lay traps for me

Shining things that caught another,

Polished with charm

Spring locked with anger

But I sense them

You think you see me,

outlined in some place

A chalk line

Etched

Naked

White against the stone

So you stalk

You wait

in stillness

You think you hear me

But I walk past you

You  seek me in your sleep

And in your dreams you have me

But I see through your chameleon skin

Beyond the words like polished stones,

each one well honed with usage ,

given to others to weigh their drowning.

 I take my leave of you

with empty pockets

 a free heart

 ~  ~    ~    ~   ~  ~

She says

Though you sense me I only come when you howl loudly

but when you laugh I am there also, for each moment

passes just the same no matter how you claw and gnaw at them.

Connected to all

I am

All

In the magic of the five senses

but especially in the sixth

3 Comments »

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  1. This is really quite beautiful.

  2. Oh, I’m loving your words, Mermaid. Fresh and original, full of wisdom, like an old soul here to teach us. Thanks for your words today. janetleigh..:)

  3. Thank you Janet !


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