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  • Writer's pictureIona Stuart

Essence - Poetry

In the solstice silence you sit alone,

The only sound your inconsolable crying.

Memories drift past you; once a stone,

Now only withered, wilting, dying.

Around your gentle frame the wind blows

Soft skin away until you lie bare,

And around your crumbling heart the river flows.

For when did the wind and the river care?

Darkness falls around your head,

And the owls fly out to meet the night.

With utmost wariness you watch to tread

Lightly upon the ground, and not take flight.

The trees loom protectively over you now,

Sheltering your shell from what plagues out there.

And the flames jump, and dance, then bow.

For when did the trees and the fire care?

You were once so living, so beautiful, so agile,

Before the walls of the world came crashing down.

Now you are so deathly, so weak, so fragile;

In the shadows you lost your reigning crown.

Our souls grow cold, hidden from the sun.

The light of our galaxy fading from us to scare,

But together we shall bask as one:

For when did Mother ever care?

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