All hail Walpurgis

A reflective poem on a still celebrated, Pagan holiday

All Hail Walpurgis



Gibbous moon conceals its face
behind a ragged cloud
distant thunder echos through the vale

chanted words warp time and space
beyond what is allowed
and sacrificial blood flows without fail

gnarled hands clutch an ancient book
bound in human skin
written by a sorcerer long dead

and ageless eyes reveal a look
more horrible than sin
as the altar stone is bathed in red

chanting done and spell complete
the witch then steals away
swallowed by the all-concealing night

and what was conjured so discrete
proceeds without delay
to feast upon the leavings with delight


C. Lon R. Bruso