Fierce and tender

The Oracle’s poem more than a message. A cadralor.

Sky is blue as a bird’s egg
but the lake is black.
Time blows across its surface
filling its depths with wreckage.

The garden wears a smock
of stalks and last years leaves
keeping the green growth bright
cradling the budding flowers.

These roads and city streets teem
clashing rocks and whirlpools of brash clamour.
My eyes and ears full of purple sunset
blackbirds singing.

Temple-churches full of blood
and the worship of death
suffocating with cut lilies
and the sound of weeping.

Wind-whispers weave stories
from storms and a transfigured sky
red and purple seep earthwards
the scent of roses.

Published by

Jane Dougherty

I used to do lots of things I didn't much enjoy. Now I am officially a writer. It's what I always wanted to be.

10 thoughts on “Fierce and tender”

  1. I like this cadralor. I still can’t quite get the hang of writing them.
    I discarded some of the words you used, but I think we have sort of the same theme. 😊

  2. Whispers and storms, blood and death–she gave me those words too. But you channel it so much more beautifully. I also think my monoprint would would well with your words. (K)

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