all-sister

take my hand, Daughter-Sister

and i will lead you across the borders of sight

past the reach of prayers

among the threads of the Ladies three

and there i will show you my handiwork

a gift to all my children

see, i have given you the gold of my hair to warm your days

and the swelling of my belly to watch over your sleep

i arch my back and the mountains heave

i blink and the age will turn

the angry flashing of my eyes splits oaks

but calm your troubled face, Daughter, these are not for you

you are to sleep in the crook of my arm

to ride upon my silvery fingers

as i extinguish the lamp at dusk

and light it anew each morning

you are to adorn my quivering throat

beholding the worlds that i create for you

Erica Vess, fall 1996

back to the writing page"

this page hosted by