Rising Sun by erin hougland

The day upon from which you fell,
a brilliant red sacrament.
And into dusk of orange glows
the passion of that life.

In caves buried deep,
your cries did reach my ears.
A story which burns the skin,
setting fire to caverns where we often stand.

For at one time I could not see
how such a passion could exist;
as that which would be born,
in order to die for love.

But the story does not end us here
and for this I am weary.
For where you go I must go also,
to the end and willingly.

For how can I go back inside
darkness which would keep me cold?
When such a love could set me free
to die and live again,

Into the rising Sun.


Calling Crow by erin hougland

calling is falling

into those hands both familiar

and unseen, a net that catches you;

swiftly and keen like a crow,

knowing when i might drop

the crumbs of confusion.

“shhhh girl” the crow whispers,

“i see you crumble, but I will

make you into something of love.”

For now i am home,

but know the journey will begin again

and the hands hold me as i wonder,

when i will trip and fall

and she will call

me back again.


  1. Whayne Hougland · · Reply

    I’ve no idea what this means babe, but since you created it i love it. Papa

    1. thanks papa. it’s poetry, so it can mean whatever you want it to mean. what do you think it means?

  2. Karen Adams · · Reply

    I like “the crumbs of confusion” and “I see you crumble, but I will make you into something of love”. Very nice, Erin.

    1. Thanks Karen. I like those parts too. I think “crumbles” is a good way to describe that feeling of falling a part or not quite all together or just plain old scattered and confused.

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