A
Spell for Freedom
By the
gods of Ink and Bone and blue sky up above.
By gods
that see us drink and break what’s left of love.
by the
streams we wandered in the summer, then in snow
By the
time we squandered, fearing, dreading growing old
By the
light that from your face lit songs of hope in me
By the Oceans,
by the Grace, by the ruins in the sea
By the
candles that we lit, by the deepest scars
By the starry
skies that tried to show me who you are.
By the
fairies and their coin, by ravens and by the crows
By the
seasons where we danced through worlds they’ll never know
By the
flowers, by the stones, by the graves of birds
By the
paintings, by the hikes and by the tower of words
By the
blue wall, the white room and by the black raven’s door
By your pain,
by your strength and by your haunted shore
By your
hair, and by your face, and by your wounded hand
By your
oils and by your baths and by your living lands
By the
love I had and have for you, and everything
That came
from you, and let me live, and yet may still bring
The two
of us to some new spring, or cave, or van or yard
Or river
bed, or road or room or prison we must guard
By the
spells and by the signs and by the strength of fate
By the
cards, and by the wards… it is not too late.
You are beautiful
and still my muse, but mostly you’re my souls friend.
I love
you Freedom. have no fear. This is not the end.
