Sunday, October 30, 2005

Poem - El Día de los Muertos

the Day of the Dead crawls closer, closer,
candles lean towards dark
as I linger on the threshold my mind sees eyes,
masked spirits smile in lipless faces,
pointed teeth, chewing the flesh of the hanged,
cloaked ghouls climb the black clouds
chanting at the stars,
dead language spells echo in the wind,
the mist of power rises with the moon
and it becomes as ghost.
I am wizard in that hour
join me on my altar,
,.be my bride, ..of dark, ..of death.