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March 2008 
Poem: The Magician
Posted on Sep 29th, 2006
by 
WH
WH
The Magician
Form is finite, an undestroyable hush over all things.
~ Charles Wright, "March Journal"
A thing held too tightly dissolves,
as in a magician's trick,
the one where a crow vanishes
through some slight of hand
and there is only the absence of the crow.
It's like that, only different.
The crow doesn't really vanish, it dies,
its neck snapped by fingers
clenched, struggling against
the ethereal power of wings.
But magicians don't use crows,
so it's not like that at all.
The crow struggles, its wings
attempting the defiance of weight
the earthbound can only envy.
But the fingers hold, and they are my hands
killing the messenger, the bird
I once trusted to reveal my soul.
The snapped neck, a hush over all things,
no awareness, no applause, no magic.
Access: Public
beautiful…but :-(
Love,
Diana
powerful stuff…
Thanks!
Feels good to be writing again, even if the writing is coming out of feeling bad.
Peace,
Bill