The world leans with grief;
between the shadows, a rare light
illuminates an oblique redemption.
There is no promise that
its quiet ferocity
will purge the betrayal
of a generation of vipers…
but, it lives.
It lives in the sky, the moon,
in rivers
and the white fire of night.

It lives folded
among the contours of skin
holding a broken world
in the complete bodies of creatures
made of stars.

Creatures men kill.

Between the shadows,
the world leans with grief;
an ancient creature
an oblique redemption.

© rosemary alles