POETRY/SPIRITUAL
Hallowmas
A poem honoring the thinning of the veil
Published in
Oct 16, 2020
earth-dried bones
roots begin to speak
barren trees like fingers bent
ground ward pointed
gnarled oak women spent
footfalls silent on leafy paths
tombstone names forgotten
beckon from the past
dust bowl of eyes descend, unseen
molded into owl’s dreaded mask
drums echo to composted beats
while brooms sweep hidden piles
skulls drop primeval clues
from hinge-less doors, whispering
ancestors stomp into view
— Janaka Stagnaro
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