Samhain
Here we edge-sit
dressed as casual
waiting for the surgeon
in a fear-soaked room
cleaned into shabby fray
chairs eloquent -dark though mute
no words from anyone
only covert look-overs.
We touch hands.
This is the Halloween bridge
between the land we know
and the shaky mist of terrain
on the far side,
there will be blood
will there be life?
Katherine L. Gordon
October 31st, 2011.
2 comments:
Chris, thanks for posting an other superb Katherine L. Gordon piece.
This is her writing: she owns the Celtic poetry genre. No one blurs as mystically the borders between the Celtic "mist" and the horrible quotidan realities of surgeons & waiting-rooms.
This is a small sample of a body of Celtic verses that would easily fill a 500-page volume. I eagerly await that collection.
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