White Roses

White roses
on a storm
grey sea.

Handfuls
thrown for
silent hearts.

White petals
for her
silver birch
hair.

A crown
for the sea
queen

who once
graced land

who once
graced me.

Grief is the Crow

Grief is the crow
that stole the moon
and hid it in the shadows.

Grief is the shadow
that forgot the moon
and searches endlessly.

The heart an empty bowl,
a hand curls around
nothing but memory.

The end of grief
comes suddenly.

The crow soars
dark against the sun
and the heart soars with him,
free.

She spread
on the surface
of the great green
water,

star-shaped.

Her heart
told a tale
that would crack
land
with its
violence

but currents
softly carried
each secret

to wise depths.

As her heart
bled out

she became
the unbreakable
ocean.

When she gathered
herself,

to return to her world
to keep quiet again

there was grief.

It was not her time
to rest
in the immensity
of natural love

she

star-shaped,

had to walk
the land again.