She stands at the prow of the ship
looking deep into the soul of the distance
bent like a crone
staring off to the dying sun
a glimpse of unshed tears
burning with such halted intensity
bright in her eyes
The sky burns red as flame
while the air shrieks
the weeping woman is here tonight, keep your children inside
walking by the river in the darkness
the shadows and eerie patterns of sighing leaves
fall filtered on the ground, yet no moonlight touches her
creatures of the peaceful night shrink away
as she searches
always searching
for what she has lost
The woman
wretched and silvered in the starlight
she is glowing, indefinable, her borders exceed her bonds
she can see her
she can see the woman whom no light will fall on as she wails her longing into the still air
and she reaches out her hand
and rescues her
Apr 8, 2013
Apr 8, 2013 at 12:56 AM UTC
She stands at the prow of the ship
looking deep into the soul of the distance
bent like a crone
staring off to the dying sun
a glimpse of unshed tears
burning with such halted intensity
bright in her eyes
The sky burns red as flame
while the air shrieks
the weeping woman is here tonight, keep your children inside
walking by the river in the darkness
the shadows and eerie patterns of sighing leaves
fall filtered on the ground, yet no moonlight touches her
creatures of the peaceful night shrink away
as she searches
always searching
for what she has lost
The woman
wretched and silvered in the starlight
she is glowing, indefinable, her borders exceed her bonds
she can see her
she can see the woman whom no light will fall on as she wails her longing into the still air
and she reaches out her hand
and rescues her
the "weeping woman" is the La Llorona of mexican tales