Small creatures
shoulder stones
of sundered sky;
even Atlas could not try
the weight they carry,
nor Zeus himself
nudge Gaia’s fertile thigh
to set in flight
their huddled winter tarry.
Her father strayed from home again that night,
So neighbors took her mother to give birth
And waited for the errant man to come
And watched the snow that piled upon the earth.
That winter night was shortest of them all,
When caul-born child was laid upon the breast
Of woman filled with sorrow and with woe
For husband gone and child aborn unblessed.
The doctor said there’s nothing for concern,
That babies born with covered heads are fine.
He skinned the child of soft, encircling womb
And cut the cord and tied it off with twine.
A child so born had once been thought a boon
To ships that sailed to lands upon the waves,
And sailors paid a fortune for the skin
That kept them from the depths of watery graves.
But when her father learned that she had borne
A veil that hid a face with dark black eyes,
As black as dirt of coal upon his hands,
He hawked onto the snow and made a sign.
“Protect me from the evil eye,” he said,
“Of babies who can steal your dreams at night
And take the sleep from out your lonesome bed
And fill your waking days with fear and fright.”
“Doc should have let her stay there in her bag
To drink that water where she learnt to swim.
He should have left her to the will o’ God
And left us to enjoy the peace o’ Him.”
Yet as a child is wont to do, she grew,
A strange and somber fairy child, they said,
And every night before she went to sleep,
She turned her mind upon their loathsome bed.
The child brought forth beneath the wintry sky,
The shortest day and evening of the year,
Born safe within a lonely veiled cocoon,
Sent mother all her joy, to father -- fear.
With passing of the years the girl grew fond
Of rambling in the hills to learn the ways
Of women who could cut a willow twig
Or blow out fire or take a wart away.
But as she hunted ginseng root for tea
To make a heart beat strong or heal a wound,
She always thought of him whose thought that day
Was that she was the twig who should be pruned.
Her stature grew in magic and in art;
She bent their use according to her will.
To those in need she gave what help she could,
But unto him who bred her -- only ill.
One day as she was digging by the stream
That ran behind the tipple for the coal,
She felt the hair arise upon her neck
And knew that nearby lurked an evil soul.
She heard his jaunty song before she saw
The man of heart much blacker than the seam;
She hid herself from him among the reeds
And willed him to the depths to meet his dream.
He felt the pull of water and of thirst
And need to wash the coal dirt from his hands,
So down he stooped there on the river’s edge
And looked through swirling water to the sands.
Beneath the water’s twist he seemed to see
A babe within a bubble all encased
That moved beyond the reach of his long arms
But strained toward him for watery embrace.
He stretched his arms to grasp the thing he saw,
Said, “Eyes play tricks on me, I know, this day;
Or clouds have come to shadow out the sun
And hide the things of sense from sight away.”
The sand beneath his feet beside the stream
Began to fall then shift and then to run,
And up from out the reeds his daughter rose,
The one whose face was hidden from the sun.
He saw that face reflected in the pool;
Her eyes there darker than the darkest coal
That stained his mind and filled his evil heart,
The waterchild that sucked at his black soul.
He turned and clawed with hands for purchase there
But pulled away the film of soft, smooth skin,
A shimmer that had covered fine dark hair
And held the heart that he had scorned within.
He fell beneath the eddies of the waves
That washed the black of coal from off his face,
And in a bubbled caul he sailed away
Cradled by the fairy child’s embrace.
I.
He is drawn by scented beauty,
And it is among soft roses that he finds her,
Following her sweet song, a melody
Half-remembered from some ancient time
When someone might have loved him.
It carries on the wind, and he, his black heart breaking,
Feels passion’s heat crack the ice that holds him,
So that he spurs his sable steeds through the flowery field
To scoop her up, rending her skirt as he grabs her,
Sending buds and stems flowing behind them
As they streak to the maw of the cave.
II.
It is the sunrise
That she misses most.
These days, it’s bitter dark
As far as she can see.
Through endless days and nights
She’s lost her count of suns missed
Here in the belly of the earth.
When she squints she thinks
She can almost see
Green land, valleys and streams,
But she knows all along
That the horizon is above her
And the moon that hangs
Over sweet smelling fields
Cannot pierce the depths
Of this dark and silent world.
III.
Somewhere again,
The goddess is arrested --
A shriek borne on the wind,
An echo of old fear,
And her mother’s heart
Races faster than her feet
As she crosses the land
To seek her missing child.
What is this fabric caught on thorns?
What marks on this burned path?
Forsaking fields and flowers,
Leaving grain to rot on stems
And grapes to shrink on vines,
She paces her great grief,
Deranged and vanquished
By the darkness where she cannot go,
And we, without her bounty,
Fall into famine, searching for succor
And finding only snow.
Darkness falls like Autumn leaves,
Upon the brown and barren hills
And in my heart, I come to grieve
As winds blow cold across the eaves
And branches scratch the windowsill.
While darkness falls like Autumn leaves,
Small creatures seek their burrows deep,
Heralds of the coming chill,
And in my heart, I come to grieve,
For winter moves in like the thieves
That steal the light and sap the will
While darkness falls like Autumn leaves.
The year grows short and I believe
It is with rue my days must fill,
And in my heart, I come to grieve
For all the failures to achieve
And all the hopes gone unfulfilled.
While darkness falls like Autumn leaves,
In my heart, I come to grieve.
Your children said
you might have been confused,
maybe you were walking in your sleep,
were blinded by the snow,
you’d lost your way.
The neighbors said
you had been acting strange,
maybe you were walking off your fears,
since John’s been gone
you hadn’t been the same,
they think perhaps that
you had lost your way.
The expert said
he couldn’t speculate
why you’d be outside walking in a storm,
but he’d confirm the cause:
a frozen heart,
direct result
of having lost your way.
