The Ritual

Magical center breath,

heaves and a sigh…

The uncanny

Fades

the shapeless

draft of paper smudged

tiraboleiros swings,

smoke drifts and floats,

the small surprising clinks of the chain…

palm leaves

dried from past Sunday's

collected

the liturgy sung,

not in flat sad words or flat earth noise

but the

lilting of voices so pure only the children hear

the piper play

and bagpipes echo.

The breathing of Iris

ne bottalico

theladyo۩

~musingsilence~∞