Crone


 

What your dark mind must conceal
from the spirit
of joy and forgiveness

from that which is pure
tested by time
and the wanting hands
of the sacred crone
the waiting one
who cowers
yet smiles

woman aged of wisdom
warrior soul
spirit eternally reborn
transformed
singing truth
through the hail and barrage
‘cross the bow mast
of freedom
seeking broad measure and berth

as all that you seem to desire
slips slowly away
like rain down a spout
as your nightmares plumb deep
the sphere of black dreams

this timeless crone
could be your miracle
your salvation — your way out
your frail breath
to carry you through your passing

*
rob kistner © 2021

Poetry at: The Sunday Muse

 

22 thoughts on “Crone”

  1. your way out your frail breath
    to carry you through your passing

    Love it Rob, beautiful write! Each gentle twist of the braid makes it all the more memorable as time goes on!

    Hank

    1. There is music, was from the beginning. But OOOPS Shay. In publishing the post, the two URL’s ended up conjoined, and neither were visible online. Initially, I had carelessly published the incomplete draft. It is fixed now. Sorry!

  2. The image of ‘crone’ in your poem is the woman I would choose to emulate. ‘Woman aged of wisdom, warrior soul, spirit eternally reborn.’ Beautifully composed, Rob.

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