My Poetry
Again, This
Aois Dana
A Bag of Spring
For A Wedding
Little Brother
Ostara - Mist and Wings
Rainy Day
Some Murdering Secret
Sun and Rain
What Comes of Wings
    I came into a situation where someone demanded that I be either dark or light, not both. And this was the poem that I wrote after the conversation as my response.
Firebird and Angel
I can feel my owl wings burning like haloed suns,
they light the darkness around me,
they set the clouds aflame
with the light of the setting sun.
I can feel the fire in my stomach rising to scorch my lungs
and tinge my heart with passion,
and squeeze my soul with delight
with the scent of a million applewood fires.

Stormhorse and Dryad
I can feel the darkness pool within me floating,
stillness incarnate to swallow light
calmness radiating outward
like the rumbling of faroff thunder.
I can feel the coolness on my tongue as I swallow
and tame my passion into wisdom
and loosen chains to let me dance
with the streaming of a million windblown tails.

Windsinger and Witch
I can feel the power wreathing my hands,
contending with itself in strangest conflict
merging with itself to balance my soul
like the flame in the stormclouds at dusk.
I can feel spicy mist inhaled from the night
and the muted embers of the suntime
that set my spirit voice to singing
with the harmony of a million varied melodies.

© Anne Cross, 1997

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Created: November 20, 1997
Last updated: March 19, 1998