Kiss The Fiddler

Ramblings, moments of humor, random thoughts, experiences, insights, simple wisdom, and whatever else I feel like sharing.

Sunday, February 10, 2013

Circle of Stones

Sometimes, when, in a moment of quiet I sit, words come to me.  I write them down.  What follows may seem dark.  Take it with a grain of salt (or a salt block if you need to).  Just because what I write seems dark, it doesn't mean I'm necessarily in a dark place.  No need to be worried.  It's just poetry.  Please dont' ask me to explain it.  I won't.

circle of stones

she sat in a circle of stones, 
of shadows and shards i
n the secrecy of darkness 
and her soul cried out...

she sat huddled 
under a rough blanket
peering at the scene around her
and her soul cried out...

she sat in the circle of silence
no more would they cry in hunger.
no more shiver with cold, 
never again scream in fear
or look up with expectant hope.
she heard the silence 
and her soul cried out...

she sat in the circle
of the night of her creation day
and smelled the pungent sweetness of blood
and the searing stench of burned flesh
and fife and wood;
and her soul cried out...

she sat there shaking 
as their spirits became ghosts
before their tiny bodies
were even cold,
and her heart became hard as stone
but her soul cried out...

and today the bodies are gone,
the blood is washed, 
the grass grows clean. 
But she still sits in a circle of stones
and her soul cries out...


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