I walked through a garden
Flat
Against my skin--
Not iron but heat
Bending to become door,
Exit
Through which I left,
Blade-edge of summer
Barring my return.
One day
We will become the fable
The ones who would not see
Whose better angels will be painted
As the crows of the field.
Everything for the use, for gabble;
Sharp eyes in the shade
Beneath the shiny bigness.
A day, then:
Fleet passing
Of the joy in the escape
From us.
That day
Light will run from the snare
In the form of the new hare
Whose eyes are quick
To the shift of the lie.
And whether anyone
Lays their child beneath
A telling
We will never know
However hungry we become.
Sharing with both Poets United for Poetry Pantry #423 and The Sunday Muse for The Muse #24. Hope that you are having a week in which all your rage is energy and the works you encounter ramparts rather than barricades.
-- Chrissa
Your poem is a wonderful maze, a twisting and turning of words into meanings filled with wisdom.
ReplyDeleteSomething of magic is going on here. I love the idea of bending to become door and the blade edge summer.
ReplyDeleteOh my gosh, I love this so much!!!
ReplyDeleteYou are a poetic genius, in my estimation.
ReplyDeleteAlways I enjoy your juxtaposition of images, today my favourite is ths one for its 'Aliceque' quality.
ReplyDelete"Bending to become door,
Exit
Through which I left,"
Happy you dropped by my sumi-e Sunday today Chrissa
much love...
Oh, I love the intricacies in your vocabulary here — the zigzag undertaking as we traverse through the pathway of your thoughts is very interesting. It seems to be headed towards a point where depravity is the norm.
ReplyDeleteThis shift is so well done: "A day, then:/Fleet passing/Of the joy in the escape/From us."
-HA
Wonderful. I especially love the second stanza. And your wish that our rage be energy......may every woman vote. These grinning ghouls are a nightmare.
ReplyDeleteMy goodness this is good! You had me at the opening line ❤ a new favorite for me!😍😍
ReplyDeleteThis is interesting for the story within the story - how the point of narration changes, the active becomes passive, the fable will be written, in hindsight, and perhaps only by the others, for the seeing of the truths.
ReplyDeleteI find it interesting how you haven't named specifics in this piece, but rather have hinted at, with careful suggestions of the "woe be-tiding" - and use the closing to bring the message(s) "home."
well penned!
ReplyDeleteI hope there will be those able to read the fable, later, when all this is just an ugly memory. I pray that there will be someone, something left.
ReplyDeleteEnchanting … wonderful word magic … in this unique and intriguing piece.
ReplyDeleteThis is magical!
ReplyDeleteBeautiful, magical and thought-provoking. When we become the fable, will reality have moved on to make different stories, or the same-old?
ReplyDeleteI wonder what our children and grandchildren will think of us when they see what we did or didn't do so many years ago that may affect their lives because we hadn't stood up to protest or been sensible enough to vote.
ReplyDeleteCaptivating, I love this, Chrissa.
ReplyDeleteLove this Chrissa!
ReplyDelete"Bending to become door,
Exit
Through which I left,
Blade-edge of summer
Barring my return."
"A day, then:
Fleet passing
Of the joy in the escape
From us."
Excellent writing!
"Beneath the shiny bigness" what a wonderful line to go with so many wonderful ones woven together here. This is absolutely lovely Chrissa!
ReplyDelete