she smiles and then laughs, life escaping in one insane, exotic breath. her breath cools turning into a mist that floods the valley, putting out the firey homes of men. Now only wooden skeletons that seem to laugh in relaxation remain. now free from their cracked old wooden skin. The men lay on the floors of the homes listening to their skeletons crack and moan, no more are they young. The wood panels break craddling the men in a warm, damp womb of wood. They sigh and lay still, her mist turns into a chill wind. The men turn to dust and litter the country side riding her breath to their eternal destination. The homes light a flame again and her laughter turns to anger, sadness , fear and finally rain soaking the houses. They groan, steaming letting their souls drift skyward the rest of them clawing at the earth with their foundations. Then finally they give in and become old men and join the men's ashes as she laughes again whispering " no more are they young, no more do they run, but look how much they loved this land and their homes, now in eternal hearts they rest".
copyright andrew kerr 2009
No comments:
Post a Comment