Sort of just came to me from reading way too much medieval fantasy... if there is such a thing! :)
Tis a tangled web we weave,
In a life such as this
When we awaken to the breaking dawn, Forced to greet the murderous sun.
The steps in which we walk Leaving behind our drops of blood,
The Statue of our One
Weeping her silent tears of sorrow,
Opening her arms of solitude,
Patiently awaiting Her children's embrace
As we, without grace, ignorantly await our fate
Creating chaos of destruction, amongst ourselves. Oh, what a tangled web we weave
And yet, we forever weep.
“The woman or man who is a poet, or fiction writer, or playwright, or all of these, is engaged constantly in a jazz ballet of vocabularies, passions, genders, histories, perspectives, death, love, and life. The music of revelation announces itself to
Mary Angela Nangini's poems celebrate the richness of life and love. From the city to cottage-country and the roads in between, Nangini explores the changing seasons of her varied region. (This book will soon be reprinted in hard cover.)
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