Mar 12, 2010

Keeper of the Black Bridge

My Everwatchful Owl.
Her perch is abandoned, leaving only a
bleak and hollow feather
in her stead.
That feather
is an iron weight in my heart.

The air is brittle,
with a chill that
shatters this straining breath
as I seek my haven.
My elder.
My Owl.
Only the massive void calls back to me now.

Ahead, a path's gaping edge of fog and dread.
A bridge suffocating in gloom.
The waters beneath.. black noir.
A decayed journey snuffed of it's guide.
Miserable, cold
liquid churning
through rotted, cackling planks.

Rushing. Reaching. Angry.

My Mother owl.
Keeper of all which is lost.
Lover of all things abandoned.
I have not the strength to repair this bridge.
I have not the heart to cross it alone.

Oh you wicked, insipid branch.
Where is the moonlit creature you once held?
Your thin shadow stains my skin like a poison.

Therefore I say to this
May the hungry blight of this passway
never be blotted out.
May the world come fully undone.
My hope now lies
not in the death of these devils but
in their aid.
I must seize and cling
to swarming chaos
and let terror consume
me, as fire.

Letha Mae Lehman
July 14, 1930 - February 20, 2010

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