Ritual
by Danielle Page
Antler bone boring into earth
Carving out some semblance
Of a miracle, a belief that
Their etching elevates
A plant’s potency—
For the lame girl whom
The village loves, her legs
As brittle as the bones of
The elders, they put faith
Into the properties of
Handmade tools--
Antlers, shed and reborn,
Regenerate the life of
Those once considered lost
Roots torn from the ground,
Leaves carefully plucked,
Mashed to paste or
Transformed to tincture—
She sips and breathes
A sigh of relief,
A sign of hope—
Crushed like the root,
They swallow grief.
Antler to earth,
The dirt flies,
Season of Sickness
Reborn.
Carving out some semblance
Of a miracle, a belief that
Their etching elevates
A plant’s potency—
For the lame girl whom
The village loves, her legs
As brittle as the bones of
The elders, they put faith
Into the properties of
Handmade tools--
Antlers, shed and reborn,
Regenerate the life of
Those once considered lost
Roots torn from the ground,
Leaves carefully plucked,
Mashed to paste or
Transformed to tincture—
She sips and breathes
A sigh of relief,
A sign of hope—
Crushed like the root,
They swallow grief.
Antler to earth,
The dirt flies,
Season of Sickness
Reborn.
Danielle Page is a truth-teller and graduate student at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln. Originally a Yankee in the south, she’s now learning midwestern ways. When she’s not reading composition theory, she’s scribbling in her Moleskine journal. Her work has appeared in the Whale Road Review, Pacific Poetry, Calla Press, and elsewhere.