On waking, to find you absent-
having flown this proverbial coop
of twisted bedding, damp sheets
of feathers that recall you…
ruffled and smoothed
by both mouth and hands-

i would not curse you earthbound,

though greedy, i would have you at my side
and pray for small openings,
crevices and spaces that allow me entry
into some precious, sacred room
you’ve kept for yourself,
seeking knowledge of the moon,
aloft while i forage…
a raven,
craving those shiny, pretty things…
feathering this nest with baubles and trinkets-

i would not pray you walking, wingless-

shifting aimless between shadow and light,
staring up between tree limbs
begging for the sky-
while my legs and arms entwined,
keep you rooted to the earth
with what fruit we might produce
is my womb,
is my love of you,
is my desperate language,
tongues we speak in secrecy-

i would not repent, not forsake you-

though gods and humanity will not recognize us…

i would not have you fallen…

…for me.


Author’s Note:  I came across the legend of the Grigori while exploring spiritualism in some old estate sale books. The Grigori were a group of angels who had been sent down to be watchers of humanity only to fall in love with mortal women and begin mating with them.

The idea of being cast out, of becoming ‘fallen’ for love intrigued me and this is what evolved~