31 Jan sing! o sweet, winged creature, By Tamara Carnevale
sing! o sweet, winged creature
of the endless sky beyond our darkened caverns.
as we venture further into the oppressive earth;
pickaxes and helms caked with decay,
your sacred song sows our home back into the dirt:
tales of the azure wild,
of gods that trail along ocean floors,
yielding their daughters to the mercurial moon’s path,
and leaving kissed treasures on the shores where they lay;
tales of the fickle green,
who dons her ever-changing livery,
spun of her kingdom’s jewels and flora,
gently waltzing day through night;
tales of the mischievous winds,
of imps in every unfilled space,
who carry the breath of each living being,
and the joys of being, too;
tales of forgotten stars,
burning through time and beckoning,
beckoning to lowly things that look upon them,
longing for that loving burn to the very end.
sing! my dearest angel.
stave off our heavy despair.
with our knees to the cold damp dark,
we forget what lies just outside.
without your heralding voice,
how will we crawl our way out
of this twisted labyrinth?
o! loving ariadne,
canary of the mines:
keep singing,
keep grieving,
for the homes we’ve left behind.