Almost Sisters...Why Leave The Earth? * - Poem by elysabeth faslund
Ancient steps, aging breath,
Dark, stained glass
Entwined in bronze...
No shine, spark.
Should I change the laws of life?
Should I pull aside the Veil?
I can hold the roses of Heaven.
I can hold the Hell of thorns.
Places in Time, names forgotten.
Inner lights of buttercups...
Not picked, vased, or mantled.
When did I swim in primordial waters?
When did I crawl out to breathe?
Where were my families to greet me?
Where were the footprints to follow?
Never-time. Warm, candled cabin.
Snow-covered valleys to sleep in.
I can arrange the rules of Days.
I can mold the Crescent Light.
Never will the roses curl, brown...
Never will the thorns dull.
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