The Old Ones
       

In a solitary flash
a few old women pray
exultant
and kneel down in unison
ancient doves of peace
voices rising like a catapult
in an age of war __
their folded knuckles
bursting white gristle
their bent legs -
shaking gentle thunder:
a summons to gestate
and remake the universe
with a shout of glee

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Copyright © 2015 Sonja James All rights reserved
from The White Spider in My Hand
New Academia Publishing
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission