The poetry of Michèle Vassal

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a pink moon is rising
and I am back
and your hair is the snaking bark of elder
and your skin is as sweet as spring’s first milk
as it has always been
don’t talk
let me unravel you
let me undo your storms
into soft ribbons of rain
let me
lick your blooded wounds
let me be
your quickening pulse
the shiver of your hand
on the curve of my back
let me be you
don’t talk
I am back
     I am back
          to you
like the wave to the ocean
like the sap to the bud
like the flesh to the earth
I am back
risen from my bed
of stones and bones
risen from the blood soaked grass
risen from the ashes of gorse fires
I am back to you
back to stretch the shadows
and shatter the night
and spin the day green
don’t talk
I am back

Michèle Vassal

“This is a very young poem, written last week during the full moon. I usually hesitate to put pieces that haven’t rested a bit, but this one just burst out and it didn’t feel right to keep it. Anam Cara means “Soul Friend” in Irish

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