Here There Is This Land
Where are the magpies?
Where the ruined cathedrals;
where the exiled birds behind broken stones
that once made their homes
in the hollow heads of saints?
Here there in this land
there is corn, and the industry of dust.
Wooden barns and wooded farm houses
that even as they live, they dwell in the
last days.
I need a hill to howl upon.
I need the North Woods to hunt my enemy in.
In those snow gripped forests
he would also be my guide and friend,
my magpie.
Let him make his nest
in the warm hollow of my chest
while I cool
and turn to stone
far from home.
Copyright © Eric Ashford | Year Posted 2020
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