Silk Soaked In Blood - Poem by Julius Glasthal
Resting under elms, burning rodents scurry
The apparition slowly follows the trail of blood.
To the body of the mother to the roses.
On the verge of the end of sufferance,
She cried for the ravens, she cried for the crows.
Autumn has eaten the trees, the dying leaves
float as for gravity has sinked its teeth into the
exterior of its brown coating.
Choking on her own blood, she leaks out her final
words: 'Silence is alive in the clouds but dead in
She reminds us of what released this plague, her
mind ate as if it were a dish of solitude.
Ripped gorments settled on her skin, leaving scars.
Rotting silk sleeps soundly on her person.
With each dropp of blood the silk held in its lustrous
fiber fell to the soil, awakening the hidden roots.
Born, alive to the dead air made the vultures sidled,
making them afraid to strike.
The sprouting nature now circles around the body
of the mother to the lilys.
Grabbing at her feet and arms, slowly pulling her
through the soil.
The ghost cries for its fallen mother, it cries for its
Witnessing her being eaten dead by the blood
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