I. Elizabeth Aviva Fiada March 20, 2017 A wise man gifted Mary myrrh; his prayers fell silent before her stare; he lifted eyes of slate and stirred, afraid to speak—to prophesy, to say her Son was born to die. In Ireland, there is green that never fades and caves that gasp against the waves. Years…
The bay is breathing swell upon swell, my mind is seething words cannot tell. Rush, rush. Pedal like fury arrive by the tide, settle the hurry breathe and abide– Here lies your home. Hush, hush. Through bud and bone, Rush, rush. Let the current flow, dimpled knees and river stone. Yes, my love, I know,…
Arch, twist, gasp, moan Pray, breathe, push, groan Swollen belly, pulsing night When first you breathed, I saw light. Tears, salt, gentle moon Blood, skin, quiet room Breathless touch, dripping milk When first you breathed, your mouth was silk. Raw heart and aching bone Trembling lips, grief like stone Your sister gone, my world so…
If I could show you your first snowfall: a holly tree shrugging white shoulders, a cardinal plucking blushing berries; If I could show you our chickens standing sentinel before their snowy coop or two fawns lift still and silent heads, heralds of a hungry winter; If I could show you snowy branches like ivory arrows…