Weep, Lioness

A poem of storms, grief, and motherhood

Weep, Lioness
Photo by Max LaRochelle on Unsplash

Weep, Lioness, the storm is finally over
as tears of the sky seep into your hide
let tears of the mother burn into the ground.

Last night we were so hungry,
scared and indigo
thoughts awaiting silence.
Furs awaiting coldness.

Weep, Lioness, the ground will thaw and freeze
and drought will shatter it again. Your sons
will crawl over the ravines to you.

Tonight we will sleep soundly
wrapped in night,
over flattened clouds,
silver moon-wire wrapped
round broken tree-trunks.

Weep, Lioness, your daughters drink cool water
and have no hunger. The wind has torn them all to shreds
and their stomachs are silent.

The earth has shaken out its sins
and washed out all its rage.
A deadly cross-fire of land and sea
over your cubs’ playground.

Rest, Lioness, the stones have finished trembling.
Rest, you have out-stormed it all.

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