Textual Arachne

A weaver of threads.

Saturday, November 01, 2008

Samhain sonnet

Winter caught me unready and wounded.
I'd thought to weather it at home, but now
I barely make it to a frozen cave.
No warmth, no food; but my chest torn open
is spared the wind. How will I last the night?
The cave leads deeper. I make my way down
past gypsum blooms on granite till I come
before the great last threshold; past that point
I would be bones and ash. She, vast enthroned,
takes me, holds me, shows me her face. Down here
I can survive the winter's ice and snow.
From here, I could resurface anywhere.
Perhaps a voice will call me home; perhaps
I'll wander anew. All refuges lead here.

Based on a Samhain meditation and the image of hibernating bears.


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