Wind in Her Mane: The best of the blog

By Natalia Corres

This is the poetry and a short fable, as published in Natalia Corres' blog - "Wind in Her Mane".

• Language: English
• Publisher: Natalia Corres
• Release date: May 14, 2019

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author:

Now

Blood becomes roses in the water, fascinated I am open in augury for the Gods.

What they see, they do not share.

I, however, see the future in the clay at my feet and the sun dappled leaves that sway and dance with the April winds.

I see the past in the bullet that kills on both ends - the one that shoots and the one that is shot.

But the present is most elusive, a nagging feeling that the stove is still on; a sharp movement in the corner of my eye.

And poof... it slides to become past before my grasping fingers can close upon it.

And ever I hear the echoes of the Gods laughter.

Requiem for Pat

If I slap these words down, hard enough, maybe I can knock some sense into them.

There’s no switch thick enough, or strap wide enough – to make these words straighten up and fly right.

These words are lazy, useless, and good for nothing.

These words will never amount to anything.

They are defiant, and wayward.

And yet these words, no matter how much I try to mold them, or punish them for their ineptitude, keep coming back.

Prodigal words returning to the only home they know.

This Air

I feel the breeze, the cool touch of air on skin, and wonder at

the thought that

this air is the same air

that aided David as he swung his sling and threw the rock that hit Goliath;

it is the same air that Julius Caesar expelled as his last breath uttered et tu Brute.

This air fueled the pyres of women burned as witches,

and cooled the brows of sweating