Bones of the Gods
Deep blows death,
snow that buries the church.
Far away a young girl sings sweetly;
her song summons you to a cold bed,
but she is nowhere to be seen.
Her body long ago rose into mist,
and only her song stirs the dust.
The shadows dance at the edge of the fire.
Its warmth is perhaps her breath
lightly against your cheek.
Now is the time to sleep,
to let the bones
rise from waves
and settle in the cross
formed by the branches of a tree.
When you awake,
you will be alone among the hills,
and your children shall kneel
on their own wilted graves
before the image of a fading sun.
Brief bio:
Raised
in Jackson and Meridian, Mississippi, Ronald Terry earned an M.A. in
English from the University of Southern Mississippi, where he wrote his
Master's Thesis on the poetry of Ted Hughes ("Ted Hughes and the Power
of Darkness"). Mr. Terry started his career as a Secondary School and
Community College teacher but for the past 28 years has worked as a
Technical Writer in Dallas/Fort Worth, Texas. His publications are not
extensive, just poetry in small magazines such as Night Cry, Space and Time, Amanita Brandy,
and a few others. In recent years, just for fun, he has experimented
with writing free verse and prose poems in the Old English (Anglo-Saxon)
language, totally ignoring traditional Old English metrical forms. An
ardent Celtic music fan, he can be seen every year haunting all the
Irish/Scottish heritage festivals in North Texas.
This is a fine piece of writing. I do hope Ronald Terry will return to Dead Snakes and become a regular contributor. It's nice to encounter another "haunted" Celt.
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