Friday, September 27, 2024

Island Of My Heart

Island Of My Heart
© Surazeus
2024 09 27

Yoresick for misty island of my heart, 
where my ancestors lie buried in sod 
beneath rowan trees on cold river shore, 
I stand on porch of my home far away 
and try to replicate heart-aching song 
I hear in breeze that swirls hair round my eyes. 

They are no longer real, those glens and crags 
where my ancestors wandered in their youth, 
searching desperately on desolate moors 
for berries, mushrooms, or bird eggs to eat, 
except in frantic dreams of lonely hope 
where I keep walking toward dark mountain cave. 

I find no great heroes with shining eyes, 
whose exploits fighting monsters and mad kings 
to save humanity from tyranny 
are recorded with blood on dusty scrolls 
in basements of stone churches by the sea, 
except for me reflected in iced meres. 

Yet fragments of knowledge about my past 
provide no material of trusted truth 
to frame foundation for my present state, 
so I must focus on what I need most, 
wood to repair shelter, food to consume, 
and weapons to chase attackers away. 

I have nobody but cold mountain wind 
blowing in trees to keep me company, 
so I breathe deep wild spirit of the air 
and sing heart-felt ode to the autumn wind 
who drives leaves over treeless muddy glade 
with words the blind enchanter once taught me. 

With tear-bleared eyes glaring at wintered light 
of the mute sun, who always stares at me, 
I search shadowy expanse of the world 
for azure bride of Spring whose eerie voice 
calls me with mercurial faith in our love, 
but she dissolves into the sparkling stream. 

Emerging from vapored mist of the storm, 
she rises from tangled grass of the shore, 
and through dim verge winds solitary way 
with walnuts and apples in baskets heaped 
by dirt-smeared hands that caress my flushed cheek 
as she hums with compassion for my pain. 

Tending wounds from sharp arrows I sustained 
while battling gang of thieves with crooked staff, 
she mushes apples and walnuts in meal, 
then feeds me with kisses and laughing smiles 
as I tell her about gold misty glen 
where I ran searching for her in the wind. 


1 comment:

  1. Orpheus smiles at Ophelia through pain-blurred eyes as he wildly sings wind-worded songs of love.

    ReplyDelete