The Hearth Witch

home is where the heart is
she knew this to be true

for what is belonging without
the heat, the quiet inhalations
of breath and breathing walls
for what is a home without
the song of sibilant laughter
to be comforted and held
in celebration and sorrow

she felt time ravel through her
twisting and tangling heartstrings
where once her cherished twins twirled
her lovers danced and serenaded
before each life slowly frayed
on bloodied fists, blades of war, barred cells
holding those cursed with collusion

she meshed into leaves and shadows
unable to spring locks
her heart left in disarray, scarred
seared, scathed with fear and longing
with only cinder, ash and bones

home is where the heart is
she knew this to be true

so she plucked her pulsing heart
from her wounded weeping chest
buried deep in dark earth, steadily it thumped
for this she knew, a heart sealed at the threshold
calls warmth and wonders to the hearth
brightened her memories and held her foundation

she used hearth power to bind her
wishes—in so doing, she drew strength
to hold and contain the vibrant souls
to flesh lives again, make her abode homey
kindle the smoldering fire in her bosom
as loving wraiths whirled about her

without her heart to chamber her loss
she would be as empty as the heath
this, she knew to be true

Shroud

the cool black cloth
muffles sound
absorbs tears
dark thoughts

your death
inks our souls
eclipses touch
with lost life
lost light 

yet the shade of you
filters through the shroud
and settles in our hearts

Venus On a Half Shell

Not created for embrace
but be caressed by the eye
to say, “I am Creation’s masterpiece” 

Not meant to view the world
with eyes of sea-green glass
an ornament of sculpted marble
you pose serene on your crenelated shell
graced by gentle Wind
lively Spring spreads Nature’s cloth
to wrap your perfection
so as not to sear mortal sight 

Elementals compliment you
their blinding auras can’t touch
pearl skin, rose petal lips

Have you ever wondered
what turmoil churns under mirror waters
what sorrows grow beyond peace-dazzled sight

 Do you contemplate time
when Wind turns against you
rips your sunspun hair
rots those blossomed fabrics
when awed mortals tire of empty images
and sea monsters fearsomely froth the surface
when sun slips into a lightless tomb
where even your beauty will no longer shine

Author’s Biography

Colleen Anderson is an Aurora, Rhysling, Dwarf Stars and Elgin award nominee, with work published in seven countries, in such venues as Andromeda Spaceways, Space and Time the award-winning Shadow Atlas and Water: Sirens, Selkies & Sea Monsters. Her poem, Machine (r)Evolution is part of Tenebrous Press’s 2023 Brave New Weird. She lives in Vancouver, BC and is a Ladies of Horror Fiction, Canada Council and BC Arts Council grant recipient. She is author of two fiction collections, Embers Amongst the Fallen, and A Body of Work, and two poetry collections, I Dreamed a World, and The Lore of Inscrutable Dreams. www.colleenanderson.wordpress.com