Poetry Tärsél’s grief

[Rich.]

Make of this what you will. I'm not sure what to make of it myself. It's possible someone found it in a chest in the stone-walled basement of a dusty library. It might be a dream. Or perhaps I just made it up. There's a story to tell, I think, in the world of the poem.

--

Tärsél’s grief

she keened and she cursed as the ancient worlds cooled
time over time the same bitter end
she wailed and was wroth as the burning stars withered
time over time the same bitter end
ever through death she danced as they died
vowing next time
she gathered her grief and gave up her tears
vexing next time
her tears ran together, together as one
this time there would be vigor
and the true tear of Tärsél fell through the night
a pale sweet cocoon

carrying all the worlds to come​

 

[Sedayne]

Thanks for sharing this.
I like the song-like quality of a call and response
It feels fantastical and yet very real.
I'm moved.

 

[Rich.]

Thanks, @Sedayne!

 

[Mel L]

Thanks for sharing this.
I like the song-like quality of a call and response
It feels fantastical and yet very real.
I'm moved.

I felt the same thing about the song-like quality. Magical!

 

[Rich.]

Thanks, @Mel L! It's good to know that it strikes a chord.

 

[mickleinapickle]

Ethereal quality to your poem. You've left me cogitating about it all.