Friday, March 21, 2014

A Poem by Anne Richmond Wakefield

This is how it starts:
A misplaced promise.
Old light tearing heaven.
Where the pieces land,
You're born.

Each wide, a mountain
Because of the others.
All motherless,
One way or another.
All mothers.

Marking time in the sky,
Bearing histories through
The drag.  The skip.  The mystery.

Go on, seven sisters.
Burn, muting Orion.
You ancient test of vision,
Love's beautiful ambush,
Where darkness dies to light.

Anne Richmond Wakefield lives and writes in Austin, Texas.  When not painstakingly composing her first novel, she's enjoying the outdoors with her husband, two sons, and decrepit Lab-mix.

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