[Every Monday (until I run out of them), I’m posting a poem of mine that has fallen out from the submission process for some reason. In most cases, it will be one where I’ve received no response to my submission for at well over a year or more. Maybe the magazine I submitted them to has folded, the submission was lost in the post, or whatever. So, these poems can be seen as lost, orphans, of uncertain status, or something like that.]
These poems are also posted to ABCTales.
Summoning
There's a time for gentle carving,
perhaps in front of the fire
during the long winters,
when the possibility of spring
seems as hollow as a promise
no-one is expected to keep.
A time for more than ritual.
A time that calls for something
far more permanent, more solid
than just a ceremony of words.
Words can conjure demons,
words can draw out ghosts.
But it will take much more than words,
more than gestures and formal arrangements
for spring to listen,
for the ancient mother to hear.
These are stones, carved
by ancient, old fingers.
These are stones of calm purpose.
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