Obsidian
I am dreaming of
Armenian obsidian -
Satan's Nails, on the
road to Mount Arteni.
Of Yerevan, and that view,
Ararat, across borders -
stone cut thin almost
transparent, like water -
We come singing from the river
we come singing from the sky
I am dreaming of
Modoc obsidian
Mount Lassen - they say
obsidian spirits speak just once
they say
obsidian came walking,
out of the river, singing -
We come singing from the river
we come singing from the sky
Gary Lawless
2 comments:
Obsidian, obsidian, obsidian. It rolls off my tongue like a conjurers chant, bringing forth images of mysterious depth-- dark, smooth, shiny, and even lethal.
lovely, Gary
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