Poetry of Place

Here is a poem that was published online. It seems to fit with Autumn:

Chippiannock Sanctuary

Alone in the hub of swarm
Heart shrouded in gossamer shadow,
Weary soul damned by sunlight
Harpy-hounded, soul devoured
By ivory bone.
No hiding place, no bandage for festering heart wounds
Lacerated with salt and gall
Sanity rent like rotted silk.

No hiding place but the corridors that lead to the dwellings
Of the Dead in this City of the Fallen.
Dulcet Death, seducer of
Desperate Hearts,
Of Captains of the River,
And Mother’s with Babes in arms,
Of Brave Colonels
And Builders of Cities,

Purveyor of Peace, soothing shade
Soother for centuries,
Offer me the doss of Slumber deep
In this stone forest guarded by faithful
Limestone hounds
Where silent cradles rock and winds breathe through
Broken boughs.
Tranquil my mind, embalm my hear
Embrace my soul, close my eyelids with your cool touch.
Let a little stone lamb be my companion,
And remember me with a little stone bench.

There lies my grandmother’s friend,
She cared for me like her own,
So that in part of our neighborhood,
I’m still Rose Mare’s Little Girl.

There sleeps my sweet friend,
Double hearts marking her rest, but still
Not as big as the heart that beat within her
During life.

Across the hill sleeps another one dear,
Cut off the like cement trees on this or that
Ancient Grave.
He is with his grandfather, and our
Flowers mark our visits, growing more
And more Sorrow in our hearts.

Sweet Death, handmaid of
Chippiannock,
Listener of your citizen’s tales,
Pilgrimage of those who would love your markers and
Your Stories,
Let your friendly worms enmesh me
To my Mother, Earth, and
Bind me to my father, Hades.
Dust the cool night with my Essence and let
A gentle pall
Silence my tortured soul.