ODOP: Swan Song

Life and death coterminous. Revolutionaries with wisdom as immense as hers go down in violence or camera flashes. But the unslippered lady with bent neck in the reeds is dying by degrees (her eyes more blue every day); for all her prophecy no swarms invade her glen, scattering the heavy peace, to suck on her twilight song. Anyone with the right ears and righter hearts has come in ones and twos over the riverbright centuries. No rush, no fever.

For she never spoke her word but she sang, and no one can remember a time when she was not singing it.

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