Strange Ritual Poem by Charl JF Cilliers

In the forest darkness of the night
an icy disembodied cry is heard
as in the strange performance of a rite.

Here where the strangled ghost of past delight
wanders within me like a long-lost word
in the forest darkness of the night

seeking breath with which it could recite
the spell by which it once was disinterred
as in the strange performance of a rite.

Above me only icy stars invite
this empty apparition to be heard
in the forest darkness of the night.

Where once angelic images took flight
and everywhere I heard wings of a word
as in the strange performance of a rite

now images are banished from my sight
and only the owl’s frosted voice is heard
in the forest darkness of the night
as in the strange performance of a rite.