I burn sage because I like the way it smells
The demons I let stay because they’re good company
It gets easier and easier to call them back
takes less and less blood each time
they come to trace the scars that never quite healed over
and always with them comes the sound of distant waves
boats creaking against the dock
fear in the salt air like an electric charge
All this brought again before me
once more in a circle dripping black wax onto my chest
and this time I can almost make out what they’re saying
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Nostalgia is a dangerous game to play.
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Photo by Eva Elijas from Pexels
The Light is On 
11 responses to “Sage”
This is a powerful poem! I really like it.🌟
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Thanks Susan! Cheers (:
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Beautiful! Nostalgia is dangerous indeed.
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Sometimes our demons are our closest friends. …So, never burnt sage, how does it smell? I’ve used it in an apple and sage dressing for Thanksgiving one year and it was the best I ever made.
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And yes. I know, two different types of sage…😉
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It’s very nice! I don’t really burn it that often (oops) but I do have a candle with leaves embedded in the wax that smells great. Cheers (:
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So dark and haunting. That’s why it’s enchanting. Nostalgia… wicked. 🙂
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Thank you! Cheers (:
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Something here but.
Does poetry have no discipline?
Why do you use and not use the puntuation you use?
Being vague is not the same as being mysterious.
What are you rying to make me feel?
All I can feel is that vaguely you are trying to make me feel “something”.
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I like sage, I have some. I grow it and burn it but never ask for demons to linger. Out! I say. 🙂
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That’s probably the best way to go about it!
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