Time

I stuck close to the words the Oracle chose and let her give me this cadralor.

Time

1.
It’s a red day, baying for want of love,
never been held to the breast of the moon,
seen symphonies playing in still water,
or opened arms to a child trudging home.

2.
Time soars with the grace of falcon stoop;
flies, flees like wind and the taste of honey.
The skin of the water heaves over dead men below,
their time over—time for women’s grief.

3.
Did those feet ever walk these woods,
where light falls so soft through leaf-filter?
Only boots now tread, crush, searching for blood
and pleasure in its spilling. Compassion hides its face.

4.
Life begins tiny as dust motes,
raw as east wind keening, strong as a baby’s fist,
clutching a first straw and the memory
of a dream, those trailing clouds of glory.

5.
Sleep through the darkness
filled with the music of the moon,
wake to the sun raining rose water,
lighting your last unhappy shadows.