Entrances//Deaths ~ Zodiac

In the April of Covid 19
Day 26

“For the country of death is the heart’s size and the stars of the lost the shape of eyes.”
Dylan Thomas

Zodiac

I am learning the language of stars
  beyond voice-pointing,
and my signing hands, which grasp
       but fail to thread the song
when the needle is blind that pricks
       the skin of being we call night.

I am reflecting the light of ancients
  myself a point of refraction
with less of a meaning than a means
  to radiate the text of elements
through the flesh they made of me
  my zodiacal bone and sun.

I am trusting the dissolve of darkness
  the depth of preconception
and loosening the lullaby of my tongue
  in mute exchange of eyes
and fingertips, that smooth erasure
  of lines between constellations.



Skylover Wordlist: Zodiac
Play It Again Toads: Reboot, Rewind, Recycle

Made For Silence

My tongue was not made for silence
but my words cannot reach you now.

I leave them unsaid, lying awake
through dark hours of morning

listening to the rain whisper her words
of love to the leaves and grass

knowing how this will make things
grow right, even the little birds

huddle closer together on the bough
and the stars are still there

behind the storm clouds, never too distant
for their light to be lost.

My words cannot heal you, but I am here
never further than the star, a small bird in the rain.



They stand there rocking in the ocean’s murderous sway,
two shapes of lingering with farewells neither can say.  Brendan of Oran's Well

For Magaly's Weekend Prompt, Art With Me, in which I have contemplated the power of words (and when it is best not to say them).