Breathless
Dead branch fingers reach
In supplication,
Adoration framing Her round fullness
In the silverpale sky;
The clouds try to cover Her,
Fly before Her, but
Reflected radiance chases
Them away until
They sweep ’round Her,
Circling the orb with
Crystalline prisms of shattered rainbow light.
This night is hushed–
Thin blanket of snow
Sprinkles silence with each unduplicated flake.
Winter’s kiss falls softly,
The percussion of bare limbs
Makes muted rhythm behind
The melody of wind.
The world waits under this
Sliver perfection, paused in
One eternal instant,
Open and awake within the
Quiet winter somnolence:
She knows
Hibernation is not sleeping,
Meditation is not dreaming,
And stillness is the Center of every dance.
Tonight, the dancing meets the pause,
A holy pas de deux–
Whirling snow rising upon the soft, cold winter wind,
Hanging for that illuminated second,
Weightless in the crisping air,
Until She breathes once more;
The stillness cracks,
And we dance again
Around the axis of the world.
Interested in contributing to the Missing Witches Zine? Check out our submissions info and get in touch!
Linda McInnis is a traveller on the blue highways of life. After a half-century of working at various jobs ranging from circus cook to managing the complaints department for a national HMO, she is happily unemployed, a great-grandmother, writer, quilter, poet and solitary witch.
You can find her on Instagram @grumpygrannymc, on Twitter (still) @thegratefulgran and occasionally on her blog www.gratefulgranny.wordpress.com. She welcomes all contact with fellow back roads travelers.
