nevermore, evermore

she stands, arms on her hips
and raven hair
curling around the wind,
on the edge of it all
as she peers
into the river
of ancients

something in the water
speaks to her
and she cups her
hand to her ear
and allows her eyes
to float closed
softly as a feather

she listens with her breath
and her spirit,
which often feels broken
but in this moment
transforms into
the deepest prayer
of hope and knowing

she kneels
to scoop a palmful
of water into her hands
offers it to the raven
soaring over the cliff
and as she pours if over her head
tears mix with river

river that has snaked its way
from sky to mountaintop
to trickling stream
to find her
strong and delicate
like the lacing
of a spider’s web

and she says “nevermore, nevermore
like the raven who
is seen as scavenger
but underneath oiled feathers
is oracle and truth-teller
because she has heard
them call “tomorrow, tomorrow”

and like the raven
she knows that we
must feed ourselves through death
picking over some parts
and leave them to worms
but nourishing the others
that will transform us

something is circling
and she is seen
there is one moment or two
where the choosing
is between walking down
the muddy bank until the
water meets her eyes

or scooping out those
dying parts that no longer
serve her
and gifting them to
the sirens that swarm
and swirl around the rocks
singing their words on the water

“nevermore”, she whispers
and her awareness
shifts to the pulse
within her heart
and how it moves outwards
under the earth
and is seen again as ripples

in that river
where she stands
arms outstretched
and croons
“evermore, evermore”
________________
las2011

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3 thoughts on “nevermore, evermore

  1. Pingback: Nevermore, Evermore | Voice of the Muse

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