Syzygy

Singing to a Womb of Words

(Shadow meets the Soul to become whole
Skadi sits and grins while her snow spindle spins . . . )

I sing into a empty room
Of stones and pain and dark bloods bloom
She smiles as she sits at her vein strung loom
Knowing well that I should not presume
Nor speak out loud from the depths of the gloom
Drawing faces on the walls of a midnight tomb
Wondering why I assumed what I should not assume
I’ve always known I was alone in the room.

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“What did you think?” The spinner laughed
Like a shush of slithering snow
“You, whose hands are dyed with the craft
You certainly ought to know.

Stretch the heart strings then weave the woof
In colors that dream and fly,
Push out the walls and raise the roof
Burst open to cradle the sky,

Entwine the horizon with vertical thought
Wreath patterns in circles of song,
Then taste the blessed vision you’ve wrought
Much wider than empty is long

This room is not empty, but brimming with chance:
A bright womb of words that are waiting to dance.”


©Edwina Peterson Cross