They Stalk Their Prey With A Dancer's Grace
A poem
Each was born of tender light
that shone upon the soft white clay.
A blessing laid in silver thoughts.
It brought a taste of promises.
The ritual made her offspring strong.
She placed the forest in their souls
a lingering scent of earthy loam
initiates their love of life.
The shadow creature activates
her love of inner masculine.
An offer in the darkness cold
it gives a yearning for the wild.
A blood scent lingers in the air
they hunt the woods and roam the hills.
Through rocks and stones to find the kills
within the clearing in a glen.
A dancers' grace is held within
the silence as they stalk their prey.
The power of their haunches brings
an image of a silver arc.
Despite the withering of the tree,
the sharpness of the day is felt
as flat clear sheets of cedar bark
hold ashen shavings of the hunt.
When her pack is running free
the power of the midnight brings
a howling resurrection song,
that thrums beneath the forest floor.
If you enjoyed this poem, have a look at my book, We Swallow Light. It’s an exploration of events in a past life and a refreshing take on overcoming pain and the joy of finding love.
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