Wednesday, January 1, 2014

Rodak's Writings: Ancestral January

The posting of this old poem has become an annual event. So, here we start off a new year and, hopefully, a brave new world:


blue cold
            cold white
                        full moon
                                    false light

stark, hibernal oaks
which scream at the wind
with the rage of old Lear
that all nature has sinned

cold witch in her hut
that white magic can’t warm
nor the storm’s force be tamed
by the pentagram’s form

clouds freeze to the mountain
that north winds strain to stir
frozen spikes of swift crystal
tear the forest’s stiff fur

starved wolf
            white hare
                        red snow
                                    iron air

icy blade of the lake
bleeds the stone of the shore
fetch rags, my love, quickly
to chink fast the door

what footprints are these
what Eskimo this
who trudges toward spring
with purpling lips

woman, play on your harp
thaw the flames with your song
we’ll wrap us in skins
and drink mead until dawn