It was all so bright--
All the futures they said were hers;
Their wind of words stung her eyes,
Our shivering patron of the blind.
No rivers flow here--
No tides, just the cold-cracked moon
Too distant to conjure a saving madness
For Our Lady of Frozen Tears.
Sleep,
In your crystal dream of lovers--
A sky full of wavering willows
Bends over you like a mother.
It was all so lonely--
Not lessened by the dragging cautions
They hauled like sledges of endless noon
Above Our Lady of the Morning.
Ice shimmered across the floes,
Wrapped ad infinitum in ivory blank;
Blood came to seem better than the emptiness
Which afflicted Our Lady of the Snows.
Sleep,
And all a crystal dream supposes,
Will carry you where the willows grow--
Our Lady of the Roses.
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Nice poem I like the ending rhyme and the photo!
ReplyDeleteThank you, Arts & P. The picture I owe to a friend of mine. It immediately captured me and I've wanted to write her story ever since.
ReplyDeleteHi shayfire, this poem Our Lady
ReplyDeleteof the Snows, is haunting and
sublime. The verse that begins
with Sleep, made me shiver.
You are so talented, a sleeper,
yourself, actually.
(((((((((Cynthia))))))))
ReplyDelete