ᛟ Dunes of Snow
.
Pull my coat tight
Push open the trailer door—
Against the bone-white arc of the night
I step forward
The evening sky sunders without a hurt
Dusk and midnight melt before me
Its breath curling arcane & cold against my lips.
.
My feet root
In the crispy layers of ashen ice
I find myself caught
In a celestial war
Of the goddesses of heaven
Between the silver Huntress
Crescent veiled
Watchful, luminous-eyed
Silent keeper of tides and dreams
And the Queen of Fire and Bloom
Sister of dusk
Lover of dawn
Rising and burning at the edge of the world
.
For an instant
Moon’s shapeshifting gaze brushing
Venus arrows glow
Then part
As all wild things must.
.
My eyes sift through the icy calm
Resting on the hems
Of the dunes of snow
I feel the intricate bond with those before me
Who tilted their faces toward the cold light.
.
The moon
Hunter who rides the night
Norn who weaves the threads of fate
The maiden, mother and crone
Pulling tides to her breast
Whispering to the wolves
To the dreaming children
To the restless hearts who wander by her light
She is the mirror of souls
The giver of madness
The one who sings lullabies to the lost.
Ever-moving, never still.
.
Venus
Crowned in copper and clothed in dawn
She is the morning’s first blush
The evening’s final sigh
Who rises from the spume
Who walks barefoot upon the sky
Trailing the scent of myrrh and roses
Who topples kings with a glance
She is passion unbridled
The spark in the lover’s eye
The ember that smolders long after the fire has gone
War bows to her
Poets bleed for her
For she is tenderness and fury
Seduction and storm
She is the hearts awakening and desires
Unfurling like petals in the sun.
.
Each drift of snow
Wears the shape of the cold
Holds its breath a little longer
In this part of the world
As if the land itself is hesitant to uncover
Afraid of the verdant fury that awaits
Calling to the frenzy that comes with heat.
.
I stand in the shadow of the dunes
A bereft breath in the dead air's cadence
Until the cold serpent all over me
Before it melts and cedes to fertile mud
Before the earth splits wide open
Before the empress of dirt calls back to me.
In the wait for the rapture of Spring.
ᛟᚾ La Völva Creates ©
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