#mystrangebones poems

A raw stream of consciousness thing that just burst into existence as I wait for my meds to kick in. I’m wide awake after too little sleep. I may try to work it up into a poem later. I’m having serious FEELINGS about crows, but I always have and always do. Tagging @writernotwaiting because… I guess because I Wrote A Thing? ;) And @raven-brings-lightand@lunariagold because ravens/crows/birds-in-general obsession.

—–

The dawn brings enough light
I can just see the dark
green of the trees
against the faint red
of the bright sky.
It’s a color I can’t name,
this summer morning sky.

The little birds twitter sweetly,
tiny harmonies and then
the loud hungry call of crows cuts through the soft texture of noise
like a harsh black blade.

I love them, these insistent screams. They speak to me, my death eater birds. They stay, dark and gothic watchers,
undeterred
by the flame of sun
or the silver ice sky of winter.

I love that they seem not to belong
in these long seasons
but only to the liminal
quickening of autumn.

I love that they remain,
that they slice through
these extremes and seem
always in contrast with the sky.

I writhe and thrash
when the venom spits.
I lash out, shriek, spray it
on everything near me.
It eats through my skin
and grounding
and the earth shakes.

You wind around me,
still the wrath and trembling.
You are warmth
and silence, a balm.

You catch my poison with your lips,
drink down my hissing acid.

Kissing me through the burn,
you wait it out.

You are a bed of stone
worn to my shape, but
solid.

Your quiet can cover
my screams and
you stop
earthquakes
with your arms.

Heidi Richardson Evans

—–

I started writing a gender-flipped version of alluding to the Loki and Sigyn myth for my husband then took out the gender and made it second person… it might be more interesting to put his gender back in. Let the dude be the caretaker, the dutiful spouse.

I don’t know… haven’t written for a week. My depression/anxiety has been consuming. I wanted it to rework so that the venom is an internal thing and my “Sigyn” doesn’t hold a bowl. He’s the bowl himself and the snakes too (but they’re a positive thing) and the rock I’m bound to.

I don’t know if this works. It doesn’t matter; I just wanted to get something out here to try to find my stride again.

Feedback is always welcome.