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Great grandmother of beauty
in a land of unfathomable ice
in a sapphire world
snowlaced and unspoken,
on a desolate glacial plain
you sang this song
sixty thousand years ago.

Your vision of skies shadowed
with cliffs surrendering into sky
your dreams of light so pure and piercing,
transformed with wonder forgotten
in twilight you left these stones
all splashed with ochre red as blood,
your blood which sang this song
sixty thousand years ago.

Perhaps you knew your blood
would dream again someday,
be born again one day,
in an endless voyage,
through waves frozen and silent
you reached this shore
and bathed these stones in blood,
you found this shore and sang alone

Great grandmother of beauty
born in a world lost in ice
blue and wind blown
trees in knotted masses
weaving in the horizontal wind
you chose this plain
clasping a withered wreath of flowers
where your glacial gods stand shimmering
ice cliffs that arch and carve the sky
you found a final beauty here
and called it by a sound now lost

Great grandmother of beauty
long ago I felt your heart inside my breast
for surely you are here with me in some small part
I touch your ochred stones and stand beside your grave
I see the ice blue cornflowers flow across a plain
I dream of beauty through your eyes at night
and sing a song with words unknown
sent down to me across a frozen sea of sixty thousand years  

(c) J.L.Stanley
Song of the Red Ochre Woman