Silent howling

The sullenness of blue holds tight to the moon today. A jackal sketched transient, I am tied in orbit just the same. There are tales they say, of a darkside that no one  but distant explorers would be surprised to see. Truth and territory, staked in tricoloured folds and pinned to look like the wind. And I wander in the silver of spent firelight, waiting for the storyteller. Waiting for the story. Something unfathomable to hold between my fingers. And the satellite of sunshadow, breathes silent answer with the death of words. Child. Walk with me. Dream with me. Come taste the chalk dust that falls so softly between the pillars of small steps and giant leaps. Damn moon, always was a troublemaker.

©2017 Jac Forsyth

*moon image courtesy of

28 thoughts on “Silent howling

  1. Love the mood of this piece – and the line “And I wander in the silver of spent firelight, waiting for the storyteller” is a cracker. Great stuff as always Jac.

    Liked by 2 people

  2. What can I say? You’re a visual writer, emotive. Brilliant. I love you like crazy. I’ve come to require your words, Jac.

    Liked by 2 people

  3. Something intangible to hold between my fingers. From my side, the death of Martin McGuinness was in my heart and this was a piece about loss. Honestly, I can chase down my own tail sometimes, mate.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Nikki! You are totally splendid 💕 I am LOVING your book btw, it’s so gaaaaaagh, every time I think, I’m gonna stop now, you throw in another damn hook. It’s kept me and my bug company.

    Liked by 1 person

  5. It comes over really well. Death, an absence of the main character where you’d expect him to be. There’s times when I think I’m going round in circles too…

    Liked by 1 person

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