Alison Leigh Lilly

• peace, poesis & wild holy earth • syndicated •

The Killing Blow: A Poem

This post originally appeared on Holy Wild, at alisonleighlilly.com


Snowdrops in snow

The Killing Blow

Call me the name of peace
as though it were a curse,
and I will bless you, saying,
Yes, and I will lift up
the white flower of cowardice
and trembling. I will lift up that blossom
the color of snow and ocean foam
and moonlight, cloud and empty wind
and bone. I will lift it up with these hands
worn and worried with bickering,
limp with the luxury of blood,
the hands I inherited from my ancestors
whose bones, too, are white beneath the mud.
The goddess of sovereignty climbs the mountain’s peak,
the hard, pale sunlight like the whites of her eyes.
Wonder, too, is a kind of power.
What curse she lays on the wearied earth, saying,
Yes, and Peace, and other fearful things.
The hills grow soft, will not be rushed
as last year’s dead lift up
the small, white blossoms of the spring.


This poem was originally published February 17, 2011, on Pagan+Politics.

Photo Credit:
• “Snowdrops in snow,” by Dave Gunn (CC) [source]


This post originally appeared on Holy Wild, at alisonleighlilly.com

Advertisements

Information

This entry was posted on November 24, 2015 by in Holy Wild, Pacifism, Poetry & Music and tagged , , , , , , , , , , .
%d bloggers like this: