And It Is Time

In a rising delirium,
look for the in-between roads —
where you must pass
on ahead now.

Winterslant shadows
startle and feint,
and it is time.
Can’t you hear them
calling?

Crone rattles
prairie bones,
and she waits
for you.
And it is time
now.

When the sun slumbers,
it is time.

Fevered,
I will pass with you
as far as dreams
can go.
Slow blood slows,
and it is time now.
Relinquish
your hold on this.

Tracing steps,
widdershins,
an unbinding —
pray to the sharp-shinned hawk —
pray to the great horned owl —
pray to the osprey —
pray to the coyote
and the eater of souls —
to guide you.

And it is time.

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About Emily

I may or may not have: A. Dirt B. Ink C. Paint D. Wool under my fingernails.

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