They move in a slow wheel of devastation
dark sisters spinning with the grace of death
shawls of lost memories about their shoulders
and skirt hems dirtied with a dying sun's dust

If they summon you to dance
then dance you will
lost within their company
the madness of incomprehension unfurling
as they remain beyond your vision
no matter how hard you stare
no matter how close they sway

With such brazen elusiveness
they draw you close
with siren whispers
and untold heaviness
within their hearts
or eyes

It is a slow wheel that turns
but this vast family is reunited
embracing with simple resignation
never sadness or even joy
everything is silent
everything is cold

Here stands alone the grail of Adam's blood
reconcentrated peacefully
impatiently waiting to spill once more

Lucy A. E. Ward is a poet residing in the Netherlands. She has been published in "Muse It" and has other works appearing soon in "Black October," "Fables" and "The Cafe Irreal." When not writing, she enjoys developing her Web site.