Weathered feathers

Until they find you there, covered in wax and burning from within.
There will be a need to kneel.
To talk to you in whispered words only the soul can understand.
From pages fringed with gold and tears.
Pages of the past and covered in time.
I read you like braille, touching your skin to a language of saying.
Wanting and needing to be heard.
I kiss your lips and cough up feathers.
Careful not to cut my fingers on your golden crown.
Or the miraculous poisoned arrow aimed at me.
Taking toxins to tantalise my tongue.
They will discover, and they will see.
A long forgotten way of being, a substance not of this earth.
For which I know all too well.
For I am under that spell.
Paralysed in a plume of dove white radiance.
Playing the music of love on my heart.

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6 thoughts on “Weathered feathers

  1. Very powerful and evocative lines, nicely done!

    One small typo though I think: “I read you like brail, touching your skin to a language of saying.” -> I think you meant Braille?

    Like

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