she walks through
the mist of perceptions of
the texture of previous
lives brushed from her
mind in the harvest of feeling
not yet intact her eyes
searching among the heavy
angels half blind with pressure
of now the yellow image of
a tarot card a falcon trapped
and feeding on her hand
grapes in the background no
not grapes gray angels
the city below the space of
now again with its burdens
lust pressure sex
the whirlpool of what
could be should be dragging
her beyond the cross of Latin
words drifting low
in the mélange smoke lights
pollution windows falling deeper
dawn fusing distant stones
as the breath of the wind
welds sunlight to her skin
her spine incandescence
the lives not stuttering stone
angel phrases but breathing
through her blood the stunning
silence this
I always will be here
-------
The Naked Rose
If that rose thought of serving
only, she’d be shedding petals
at every touch and then
she would stand naked.
Once you love your darkness,
will it then go away?
-------
Divorce
You cannot kill a heron
to pay for the woodpecker’s nest
that was damaged in storm –
or can you?
Supposing you could – meanwhile
the forest in unstoppable.
Three times a Pushcart Prize nominee, Beate Sigriddaughter has published prose and poetry in many print and online magazines. Her most recent book Snow White: A Mirror In Several Voices, was published in 2009. She has also established the Glass Woman Prize to honor authentic women’s voices (details at www.sigriddaughter.com).