A poem in response to a telling by Martin Shaw, of The Fox Woman. I loved the story back in April, but I’m only now hoping to study it in more depth. After one year present at the School of Myth the real work begins!
Fox She
In the deep forest
Lonely,
Tall trees behold Truth
Holy.
In the edge-cabin quiet
Disconnection,
His one-eye sings stinging
Rejection.
In the blind escape, danger-
Doubles,
In chaos unknown, the grief-time
Troubles.
In the black tent giant
Tears,
On the bed, despair eats into
Years.
In the night strange, ‘be raven’
Lifts,
In the shadow eaves, only fox-pelt
Fits.
In the animal flight new
Cunning,
In sure fleet-foot instinct
Running.
In the home-lake, a thirst’s
Reflection,
In the Father’s trap, another life
Beckons.
In that village, torches all
Afire,
In the belly-hungry, death’s
Desire.
In the home-run, door’s slightest
Shift,
In the nose-blow bloodlines four times
Split.
In the loosening, release flies so
Far,
In the breathing, above a hundred thousand
Stars.
(c) SarahActon 23rd December 2016
