Post 247: Half-Loved


What body of water be thee

That moves this thundering heart as thrashing river’s rage

So I am turned asunder, face upon the ash, eyes closed to sadness

Where once shadow carved

Whittled spear of white-oak wood made mark upon grave-dancing-girl

Emptied, I played upon the thought of you

A knight whose face unknown stood watch and caressed my dreams

A courier of whimsy and chance, set straight atop this land

Unmasked, unchained, and shown, to one who ached the ages

As woodpecker to brittle bone

How dare thee enter now, and cast pure heart across desert sun

Fed full of wingless butterflies

My flight, my hope, cut down and stuffed into hollow screams

Dredge not into my ground, half a man, when whole you be

Claim your stand, or climb out and ride the wave upon which you came

A raven without name

~ Sam Craft, November 2012