He Shakes the Dead


(Click here to follow Pavel's ongoing epic poem “The Shoulder of the Sun.” You may visit Pavel's website at http://www.greyowlpress.com.)


by Pavel Chichikov

for Alys

He shakes the dead from His feet like dust

Not the God of death but life

His foot prints are the waves in stone

The many troughs of waves at sea

And yet with precious tenderness

He gives the song birds eggs of jade

Long shadows His, and ivory light

The ivory bloom of falling stars

He is the terror of close death

The blessing of familiar warmth

He is too large for me to see

And yet a grain around which forms

A droplet and a planet-fruit

Around a glowing pit of stone

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