The Wisdom of Baba Yaga

Baba Yaga 

The Grandmother of angry repute, 

When she wishes to be found 

May grant three voices 

Likened to that of her same-named kin 

Each louder than the last 

Blasting as horns through the silence 

Of long disguised enigmas 

Concealed in shadowy cellars 

Her nefarious, grotesque face 

And carcass alike  

Wallows in the justice 

Of adorning her garden fence 

with the skulls of the unworthy 

She beckoned, 

granting me fortress 

At her whim, I unmasked for her 

The eyes of her distorted haven warily watching 

Her chicken-legged house  

settling noisy bones 

Baba Yaga, with her filed iron teeth  

Has devoured me  

with surges of bloody wisdom 

As ancient as she is 

from time unrecorded 

On written pages 

She ravaged me with mortar and pestle 

crushing me with catastrophe 

Sweeping up my granular remains 

Endowing newfound resolve 

To cultivate a bedrock authority 

Roots of my own power 

controlling the forces of my very nature  

and the singular destiny  

of my kaleidoscope purpose 

TAMP Matthew (Seth) Fox

This young man died on January 6th of 2020. He was my "future husband" and as best friend to Matthew McBee, a true blue all the way. He was 24.
Matthew Caine (Seth) Fox

Your hair should be gray

when they lay you to rest

not dark on your brow

with a babe on your chest

What brings me awakened;

startled upright in the dark

‘Tis only the dawn becoming

on the lilt of morning larks

They promise a new day

frigid with winter’s chill

To rest you in the January earth

upon that hallowed hill

The Wailing Wall

I used to know a baby that shined a holy halo from the crown of his head.

When anger or hurt would come near him he’d shiver and cower in his bed.

The rawness of the world took away his glow, even then as an infant small,

He knew that everything he’d do would not be enough to save them all.

I once knew a boy that shined a dimming halo from the crown of his head

He used anger or hurt that came near him as his tools against the dread

The blackness in the world stole away his glow, even then as a boy not tall,

He knew that anything he’d do wouldn’t be enough to save his own downfall.

I once knew a man that shined a flourishing coin between his fingers misled

When aggressive words would punish him, he’d just smile with his words unsaid.

The evils of the world had shown him what to know, but his spirit heard the call

He knew that everything he owned was becoming holy, his bed his own prayer shawl.

I used to know a man that shined a holy halo from the crown upon his head.

No anger, hurt, or hypocrisy could touch him as he’d stand tall among the dead.

The disregard of the material plane was now everything, he’d shed

The rawness of the world returned his spirit glow, even as he’s enthralled

He knew that his place as a “Miracle Man” was found at the Wailing Wall.