Campfire roasted marshmallow center...mmmmm


Ungranted,


her knees crash to marble,
flowers held in the folds of fabric spill
before she can offer them to the muse.
Compressed bone and muscle, broken skin,
blood entering the porous white stone

libations
offerings of fat
offerings of philyra.
Smoke wafts
curls
dissipates
before a word of prayer--
an utterance for permission--is spoken.     

She gathers the folds of fabric and pulls them
close to her center. Holds herself against
affliction,
rejection. A request unanswered.
ungranted

aware all along
her muse would unknowingly admit a coursing of thought,
marvelous possibilities,
ultimately
fleeing as intensely as it set in that March morning.

Reluctantly, yet determined,
she gathers in fives
the stained,
folded, broken petals
near her core
back on foot to
disperse them to the wind.

Offering them to you, swift, speckled saint.
wishing she had carried on. Clandestine. Inspired innumerably.
a variable pain
productive
anointed
living.




May 19, 2015. Inspired by the songs “Bloodflood Pt. 2”, “Nara”, “Leaving Nara”