LY DE ANGELES
I have touched you with the hands of many ages and
Have wrapped around you poems from a forest deep and ancient.
I have loved your clean of rage, enough I hope, for you to know it
For the rage of those who’d bring you down upon their hunt to dour day,
The stag within you, wild, enchanted,
Lost on concrete streets that know no giving.
Oh, child, you are a creature from some legend and
Behind your sight hang veils in temple doorways
And I know how long it’s haunted you
Through all the times you challenged trust
To find it only endless dust.
The choices all are lying in some secret grove
Where secrets call them,
Flowers in the moon-wind.
Pick them, oh, so gently for their beauty fades
When they are known too long
Like a spell too early spoken, like hope too long forsaken.
I see you in the forest deep,
Wild rose and mosses at your feet
And mists, like ghosts, between huge trees;
I see you gently bend your knees
And kiss the earth with lips and tears.
The memory of such as you
Who can slay or save because, despite,
Whose shadowed eyes confound, delight,
Who bows the head to none in shame.
Will give life,
This woman who was wildling-born,
The raven and the rose’s thorns,
Good reasons for continued dawns.
So.
With candles lit within the night the ritual summons sanity. I remember love. I remember you. The hunter, spirit of pride, clan’s delight.Not the killer, the coward, the pretender, the grief of the office-worker’s plight.
If we are not careful we lose.