Beltane Memories

Beltane Memories

 

 

The sun just peeked out from the clouds,

as off in the distance

storm clouds form,

it felt like a Spring day.

 

As I write this poem,

two Crows take flight, cawing

and I noticed

two yellow-ish eyes

staring out from the tree line

down by Willow Creek.

As I stood to get a better look,

the eyes took Wolf form;

big, black,

with patches of grey

showing its age.

It stared back at me.

 

The dream came suddenly,

and now I look out from those eyes,

staring aat the human as he was writing.

I heard the Crows caw

and gave chase.

 

Running through thick forest,

the smell of Spring rain

tickling my nose,

wild flowers scenting my fir,

and ahead, Floralia beckoned.

Through Blue Mountain wilderness,

crossing Delaware’s cold waters,

I ran past the day

and into the night.

It was just past dawn

when the bullet pierced my shoulder,

but I continued on

until I reached the beach

and the Atlantic.

 

There,

in the distance,

I saw the long boat,

a single sail,

painted with a Black Eagle,

its wings stretched out,

billowed with the wind

and sailed away.

 

As I lie on soft sands,

the last of my blood

turning them red;

I smiled 

as I watched you fade on the horizon,

knowing Beltane

would see another day.

 

Back on the deck,

the lifeless human

never finished

writing his poem……

 

Aztec Warrior/redzone 5.1.20

Author's Note

....thanks for reading

Reviews

[jacob erin-cilberto]

so interesting....reminded me of Rimbaud with the sea part...the beginning of this had me thinking of the film "Wolf"---
and the ending of it when Michelle Pffiefer turned into the wolf, and those yellow eyes.
such fascinating creatures..and such a misty tale told here.
But the poem never was finished...I think Plath was like a poem never finished.
as Sexton put it in her poem about Sylvia..."the page left open"
j.