Bonedancer Poem by Violet Llewellyn
Bonedancer
Bonedancer upon your prizes
With rhythms of movement
Like feet turned to feathers
Glory in your triumph
Shining white in the moonlight
Pull from them stories
Notes of sadness; of victory
And finally, of death
Bonedancer, tell their tales
Poignant like piano keys
They have great fates
Breathing under starlit skies
Do not think Bonedancer cruel
For who are you to judge
To decide the meaning of freedom?
Couldn't it be in murder?
Couldn't it be in death?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/30/2024 5:57:07 PM # 1.0.0.1119
wow it makes me wonder. its so pretty though. i dont understand the bonedancer. i feel like it came from somewhere else?