I’ve done other versions of this poem, this is the latest incarnation. It keeps unfolding and taking on different forms as I continue my journey on this mortal coil. It’s a variation adapted from my About Me page. I feel called to continue with this process.
I am substance out of chaos – a fallen siren – a lone wolf howling under a winter moon.
I am a flickering flame – the product of candle snuffers – a waxy taper made of scars and burns.
I am stark winter branches – the specter of marginalization – a flowing river of fractured dreams.
I am an invisible thread – a threadbare apparition – the faintest shimmer in the foggy gloom.
I am Tierra Madre – the veil between living and dying – a broken goddess seeking the body of rebirth.
I am an unsung melody – a parched cry in the desert – a rainstorm of falling words and unchained verse.
I am a shooting star – a starless night – a set of solitary paw prints in the dirt.
I am eventide shadows – a lunar rainbow – a wounded woman guarding my fragile patch of earth.
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”Substance out of chaos” – Sefer Yetzirah 2:6 (Hebrew) – The Book Of Creation.
Wolf Moon / Full Wolf Moon – A Native American term for the winter moon phase, when hungry wolves would howl outside the villages throughout the night.