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snowgran



She holds a secret near the heart and travels north past Cameron
just where the red earth opens and a close memory
lives all along the opening
opening.
Nothing
opens into nothingness and
uncovers nothingness like an amethyst-petal cloud.
Flowering is not a life like riley but is something really and what
unfolds it is really something, too. She stopped along the way to
see the people selling things or trading them
& here the grandmother told
winter
be still

Winter listens to Grandmother and lets the aurora come back to
land still deep in winter. Surely, it was passing through
her just as she was passing through
opening.
Nothing
opens you like the Snow-Gran
who uncovers secrets still closed in the heart of things.
But, there is something more to it. It is like a cry of being out a
cloud. Or low utterance blanketed in night and white in snow-stung
rising branches. Here sits a first song where creation paused
knowing how to await the utter
nothing
opens
discovers nothingness and...



(the secret of things is really something)


 

© 2008 The Snow Gran, stephanie pope mythopoetry.com

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