Restore Garden Of Eden

Restore Garden Of Eden
© Surazeus
2019 03 16

Elegy for William Merwin 1927-2019. 

Once I decipher the language of water 
I will be able to see the blank future 
because every object of vital substance 
is composed of viscous atoms that flow 
in swirls of chemical articulation 
to explain process of cause and effect. 

When voices of people clutter my dreams 
I walk from city maze to silent hills 
where trees explain the grammar of moon rain 
that translates sorrow into pointed leaves 
which I plaster on my face as new mask 
that weaves rays of light into my sad heart. 

Each morning when I drive to work I wave 
at Glow Cloud composed of ancestral souls 
who reflect in eerie orange light lost dreams 
their brains recorded to remember why 
we explore river shores to find the tree 
where trunks transform rain to nutritious fruit. 

Though I thought the glowing clouds were my friends 
they cluster in black billows of harsh wind 
and hurl lightning bolts to smash fragile house 
where my family pursues creative projects 
so I forget their names and blaze new roads 
through gardens where their faces smile as trees. 

That fragile face of replicated souls 
who smiles in mirror of each shadowed house 
shows me path where birds navigate despair 
so I become my parents when they die 
to look at puzzling world as gloom of blood 
nourishes my heart from breast of Mother Earth. 

Tall mountain stands in shadow of my heart 
so I climb beams of moonlight to weave wings 
from laughter of my children when they play 
catch the God Butterfly in ruins of church 
since water flows through our bodies of flesh 
and I build bridge of love with echoing light. 

I feel the Earth turning beneath my feet 
in rhythm with ocean waves in my heart 
as I walk signless road in evening light 
to cross every bridge nameless people built 
hoping to connect distant tribes of humans 
so we approach strangers with open hands. 

Now that stars wake me from dreamless hill soil, 
I follow whispers of wind in fruit trees 
to stone walls that sing secret of my name 
so we lose nothing we once thought was real 
till we offer snow to darkness of hope 
while flower-birds burst from eggs of our eyes. 

Tomorrow belongs to me when I touch 
slither of silver water in cool stream 
that flows from crystal snow of mountain peak 
and winds through anguish of my silent heart 
to sparkle bright on boundless plain of flight 
where we tell each other what we might know. 

Bright faces of water become themselves 
without one word we had hoped to invent 
so we can share analysis of truth 
before we wander too far lost in woods 
where shadows hide ghosts of people we love 
though their bodies crumbled to swirling dust. 

Dust of words from ancient myths of dead heroes 
fall out of books that we forgot to read 
so blind spirit of truth who dwelled alone 
in locked library now walks quaint avenue 
to teach children art of talking to birds 
who give us wings before they become stars. 

At last you understand I am blind guide 
sent by Death disguised as tornado ghost 
from bleak waste land where names of the dead wait 
still as lizards on stones to lead you forth 
from ruins of your church to bright-lit hall 
where children explain the secrets of science. 

So we gather on island in vast sea 
to eat pineapples of forgotten myths 
and thus transform into gods without wings 
to plant seeds of fruit trees from paradise 
we saved when planes bombed Heaven into faith 
and restore Garden of Eden on Earth.