The Oracle was insistent on the Mother this morning. I immediately thought of the high priestess.
Those stilled sleeping seas haunt.
goddess mother tongue is in my head
watching blood run from the moon
why this delirious dream?
I ask the whispering mist
blue ships sing
beneath stilled sleeping seas
Sea, moon, sails–
are words a story?
ends. Compassed and jibed. Adrift
and dreaming. Betides.
A shadorma for Colleen’s #tanka Tuesday, using synonyms for circled and squared, and for Sarah at dVerse who asks us to consider boats.
Once again I’ve dipped into my art archives for the illustrations.