Crone's Cabin - For and Inspired by Wanda
Behind etched glass (secret signs and symbols)
aches a warm woman’s heart so full of wisdom
that it crackles like celebration’s fire
I do not see or feel it
breath has left a language to decipher
dearly traced on frozen spaces
barriered against another freeze
but she scraped her eyes against the pane
to set upon a table of meager offerings;
a cup of watered tea speaking your name
against the inside glass; a half-written poem
written on paper bags that princesses would ignore
but you see and touch
parchment cheeks, one lingering streak
of salt-white trail following it to shrunken lips
that have not spoken for some time: Here!
Here are the icy words of our sorrow
that are breathing hieroglyphs against windows
You read and came to touch my secret sacraments
Poetry rose, like steam, and plastered itself
on my eyelids
as sign for you to come and notice
©Carol Desjarlais 2012
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