Wind The Pregnant Sky Poem by Miroslava Odalovic

wind the pregnant sky
like old clocks rescued by a magic mechanism of time
for the future it's got to eat
vortex pages history lame
walking through the gusts of wind
forgotten names spelled upon the moonbean
say them aloud
in fingertips breathprints
in eyes closing down
and to a beheaded lion rising
to pronounce again his own death
a baby griffin groaning at his paws
'I am the new desert of those sworn
on ashes for us to find the sandclock
you may tick me off tick me off
still the death I'll guard
tenderly like a mother lap and kiss
soulfully like a wound below the heart
know not the depth the secret and the claws
that ruin this mighty shrine
for sacred I am sacred i will die.'

wind the pregnant sky
there's a life to be delivered in pain
swallowed by muteness of an ancestral choke
cherish the foods for the future it's got to eat
vortex pages history lame
through the walk of sandy hours
the dinas and dust to the desert prey
bow to a bird bless her flight above
sunslides of the sky it will survive
to be your first epitome of light