pale leaf Gaia's Garden leaves


by Jody Copestake

Perched, on the broken roadside fence,
Head slightly cocked,
You watch with those obsidian eyes,
Sinking deep into the seat of my flesh.

You sit and watch each life second go by,
As the guests of your world become a tiny speck,
Moving closer to their next minute.

You slither within the grasps of winters shadow,
Casting your wisdom on the scapegoats intellect,
Scratching tiny stick men into the wood,
Crucifying them on the roadside fence.

I hear your astringent arrrrrrk,
Stinging a hole in my mind,
You scourge my body with tiny black feathers,
In ritual, I fall into your nest.

There I lay upon a bed of coal, waiting
Watching you tend to your patients,
Tenuous, they are non-responsive.
You are their ears, until you become their redundant reference,
Parting their dreams in their sleep.

Hours pass, you work through the night,
The lady shines down a brilliant white,
You crawl up and scratch out her eyes
Her brightness blinds the sanctuary within your black light.

My turn has come; you paint my mind,
Then stick me back in the void.
New life emerges from the darkness
A common pair we shared.

*        *        *
Initiation © J L Copestake


pale leaves

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