WITCH AND PALIDIN, by Reilly S. Blackwell


Let me pull you into blackberry blood and tangled thorns.

Let me teach you of skin and bone and meat that you saw,


moments before it died.


Let me teach you that your faith

and your willpower,

your selfless conviction,

are nothing against a bear’s claws.


Take off your golden armor.

Lay down with me in the grass that scratches and cuts.

I can tell you stories of how we used to be, before morality took over.


I can tell you stories of how we could be together,

if you leave that armor in the stream.


Let the water wash it away,

wash away purpose and selfless devotion.

The steel is beautiful, rippling there in the sunlight.


Let me take you back to thorns,

to earth and light through trees.

Find your epiphanies in my skin and

the smell of my hair.


Find your protection in the land

and what it asks.

Leave your armor behind.

Reilly S. Blackwell is a writer and cellist living among the Appalachian Mountains.  She is inspired by her garden, the intricacies of music and science as they relate to the written word, and the bones of the mountains around her.  Reilly’s Poetry has previously appeared in Exercise Bowler.  She performs original work and other compositions regularly and is studying to be a cello teacher.

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