Both land on my skin and
Sear this outer layer of mine.
The spark smoulders for a second and
I can smell my flesh burn
Before I feel the prick of pain.
Blood drowns the spark as
I carelessly wipe it away.
A snowflake settles on my skin
And the little bit of soot and blood smear
Across the soft hollow of my hand.
I watch the melted flake run black and red,
A tear dripping from the tiny wound.
Another snowflake, I watch it glitter,
Settled in stillness before it moves again
And gently turns, transforms to water,
A clear drop now, then another.
I’ll pick the scab off my hand, I know,
And have a little scar of pink and tender skin,
More fragile and exposed than the rest of me.
When my hot balm is pressed into the soft snow
It will cool it, strengthen it, and form another
Layer of protection, one grown from ice and fire.
©jsmorgane Nov 2017
I sat on the hill in silent reverie,
And only the raven’s talons
Biting into my naked shoulder
Before she took flight
Made me draw my gaze from the golden moon
Riding just above the tree tops.
Following the soft sighing of the raven’s wings
I stood, bathed in moonlight,
And descended to the nether shore.
Among the trees a shadow followed,
Deeper than the forest’s dark,
The bear, my joyous guardian.
A frog joined in the night’s song,
While the full and heavy moon
Sank down behind the trees
To leave the unfathomed skies to the stars.
Now I saw a figure on the shores of the lake before me.
The raven’s sharp eye had found out the spark,
Calling her silently from the hilltop,
Down to the man with the fire.
Now resting on his shoulder, she shared her ken
Bending down to the hidden face.
And there, for a short moment,
I thought I heard the flame in the hand
Murmur to the stars above,
Who whispered wisdom in answer.
But then my toes touched the waiting waters and
My reflection fled in fiery circles across the lake.
The flame kept burning deep within,
And among the stars above was only silent awe.
© jsmorgane (Sept 2012)