Thursday, February 6, 2014

Banshee (Poem 311)

In northern realms 
grim woman keens 
and cries   lamenting 
twilight souls through 
whose lips murmurings 
of last hopes 
and lost loves 
passed in a whispering 
sigh   how dreadful 
to round the muddy
pathway's bend
and find her 
kneeling over the run
--dark and cold as 
the North Sea--
draped in mist   hands
raw and flaming red
scrubbing blood 
from the clothes 
of your dead
even as they grow cold

(c) 2014, by Hannah Six


Photo: Shaun Ferguson 
(via Wikimedia Commons)