Combing for Reasons
I comb the banshee’s long hair
until she is calm and silent.
She is older
than the lowest barren hills.
Then,
a young girls voice
issues from her open mouth.
“Daddy.”
I’m not her daddy,
No one knows her father,
unless it be the ever-wailing winds.
“Daddy” her voice is getting louder,
ceiling light-fixtures begin to tremble,
a picture jumps to its death
from a cringing wall.
“Stop it! No one knows anything!”
The banshee dissolves into tears
and silence.
Moments come and go,
the locked house door, swings open
with a shattering crack.
A little girl is at my front step –
the screeching from her mouth
is mind-shattering. terrible.
Seagulls drop like stones from the sky.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
An Irish myth. Some interpretations say that combing the Banshee’s hair
is the only way to stop her life-threatening bewailing.
She is said to foretell of death, but who or what is unclear.
This post might lead the reader to think of child abuse, at least I hope so.
Copyright © Eric Ashford | Year Posted 2024
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