Begin Again

In the clambering 
of weary souls
over moss-covered stone walls
built with the tireless echo  
of bruised fingers
that still lingers through the ages,
where does the beginning end
and the end begin?

In the wailing winds
that rip the seas to shreds
and carry, still, 
the cries of sailors lost,
painting destiny in brine 
on the faces of the dead,
where is the line crossed
in the blink
of eyes that open
to a different view?

Face the moon
with hands upturned
and dance a herb strewn circle
in the fade of night;
conjure morning
from dew drops
drenched
in the scent of primrose
and cast yesterday
into the crucible
to be melted 
and poured out as
tomorrow.

Count lives 
as petals plucked
from a newborn rose,
their fragrance left behind
as they float
on sacred oil
anointed
with the kiss of time
as the end
becomes the beginning
again.





january 2007
Janet Reid





Awarded by Poetic Constellations ~ Feb 1-7, 2007






Awarded by New Horizons ~ Feb 3, 2007