September 13, 2018
i tied a ribbon to a branch
on some wind twisted tree
alone in a field of snow
the northern lights rippled above
wild ribbons in the sky
significant yet ordinary here
a sight my ancestors knew,
boreal magic, their green-blue glow
lights polar nights strange to me
until now. i have entered a tale---
i shall ride a white bear
or a reindeer to the snow queen's lair
for love, climb glassy hills,
dance swans into life from my sleeves,
speak secrets with pale foxes,
fly on the barred wings of an owl
under those waving curtains of light,
i will touch magic in carved stones,
know the true bride from the false,
spin light into gold,
free the firebird in my heart,
draw myself alive again
from the mortar louhi kept a while,
grinding my tears into salt
instead of drowning by inches.
my ribbon prayer will bleach and fray
as i do, and one day
i will whisk away my bear borne tracks
with an old birch broom,
leaving only stories behind
to cover my cast-off bones
and my spirit will sing in the wind
and clatter in waves of light
until it finds a new home,
in another tale,
winter-borne and strange.
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