This One Wild And Precious Life
© Surazeus
2019 01 18
Mary Oliver 1935-2019
Through shadows of fluttering leaves on old trees
birds watch young girl who ran away from home
construct small huts from branches and frail twigs
with veil of leaves to capture rays of light.
Standing in brown jacket and orange skirt,
the young girl reaches both arms to blank sky
and catches beams of light with open hands,
then weaves them into tapestry of truth.
From muting bondage of enclosing walls
and clanking doors that silence hopeful thoughts,
she follows Eve from garden of despair
to gaze in round pool that reflects her eyes.
She is not that Mary in the stone church
who stands with open hands of calming love,
since she is the bird in the silent tree
explaining indifference of wind and light.
On pages of the Holy Book she draws
visions of animals with watching eyes
who live mute in shadowed Garden of Eden
to find salvation in beating of wings.
Eager Witch of Water on misty moors
contemplates dark shadow of hungry hope
lurking outside sunlight across the lake
where flocks of geese seek home outside the heart.
Without dissecting souls of animals,
she discovers ancient truth of desire
to replicate the self of conscious love
before Death annihilates passionate trust.
What horrors we try to hide from our eyes
by constructing shelters of wood and glass
that protect frail fragments of secret faith
which can be revived only by breathing wind.
In field of daffodils where otters play
I find three witches holding hands to sing,
Eve, Dorothy Wordsworth, and Mary Oliver,
who call Sylvia Plath in seance of laughter.
So Mary leads me to wild ocean shore
where she dips hands in water of desire
to show me moonlight mirrored in her eyes
where spirit of the universe glows white.
From womb of mother sea we all transformed
light beams composed of atoms forged by stars
to inhabit this body of frail hopes
then learned to sing strange visions of our eyes.
Wise Witch of Water, teach me spirit spells
to conjure souls of plants and animals
so they speak ancient wisdom of our stars
how to live this one wild and precious life.
© Surazeus
2019 01 18
Mary Oliver 1935-2019
Through shadows of fluttering leaves on old trees
birds watch young girl who ran away from home
construct small huts from branches and frail twigs
with veil of leaves to capture rays of light.
Standing in brown jacket and orange skirt,
the young girl reaches both arms to blank sky
and catches beams of light with open hands,
then weaves them into tapestry of truth.
From muting bondage of enclosing walls
and clanking doors that silence hopeful thoughts,
she follows Eve from garden of despair
to gaze in round pool that reflects her eyes.
She is not that Mary in the stone church
who stands with open hands of calming love,
since she is the bird in the silent tree
explaining indifference of wind and light.
On pages of the Holy Book she draws
visions of animals with watching eyes
who live mute in shadowed Garden of Eden
to find salvation in beating of wings.
Eager Witch of Water on misty moors
contemplates dark shadow of hungry hope
lurking outside sunlight across the lake
where flocks of geese seek home outside the heart.
Without dissecting souls of animals,
she discovers ancient truth of desire
to replicate the self of conscious love
before Death annihilates passionate trust.
What horrors we try to hide from our eyes
by constructing shelters of wood and glass
that protect frail fragments of secret faith
which can be revived only by breathing wind.
In field of daffodils where otters play
I find three witches holding hands to sing,
Eve, Dorothy Wordsworth, and Mary Oliver,
who call Sylvia Plath in seance of laughter.
So Mary leads me to wild ocean shore
where she dips hands in water of desire
to show me moonlight mirrored in her eyes
where spirit of the universe glows white.
From womb of mother sea we all transformed
light beams composed of atoms forged by stars
to inhabit this body of frail hopes
then learned to sing strange visions of our eyes.
Wise Witch of Water, teach me spirit spells
to conjure souls of plants and animals
so they speak ancient wisdom of our stars
how to live this one wild and precious life.
No comments:
Post a Comment