the dawning of solace
it feels like a pauper’s dream
adrift atween the peaks of myth
adrift atween
& baba yaga looks upon them
jawline set against the sky
cliché & lies brand her the monster
cliché & lies
lost to the claggy mountains
sundered kurgan & knelled tree
old memories traced to stone
& moss her fertile crown
fumbled by affrighted hands
her former name lays in ruin
cook & eat them bantling heads
cook & eat them
how did it all go to pieces
baba embraces the silent scream
she cannot be peculiar plain
she cannot be
lost to the claggy mountains
sundered kurgan & knelled tree
old memories traced to stone
& moss her fertile crown
by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2024
unbolt me 
Lovely finish
Like ripples dying on a pond
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Much appreciated, my friend. 🙏
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A powerful image.
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Thank you, Dolly! 🙂
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My pleasure, Tony.
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Tony, I love this!! “Cliche and lies brand her the monster.” I haven’t even followed the links yet (I will). I just love the synchronicity, too — I just published a piece that deals with revisionist folklore. https://camillawellspaynter.wordpress.com/2024/05/07/in-praise-of-black-dogs/
Love that this sort of reclaiming of ancestral spirits and stories is “in the air.” I will follow your links and delve deeper.
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Thank you, Camilla. It definitely is in the air. Revisionist folklore FTW! 😄
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Lovely sense of weightiness and gravitas.
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Thank you, Tash! 😊
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Bravo!
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Thanks, Josh! 😀
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