Reanimated Lavender Granola Switchblade Nun rides again.

Sunday, February 27, 2011

Late Winter Delirium



My dreams ice at the edges when I get this tired.

They stand like winter stalks

Or dead brides,

Miles from the main road

Or any comforting verse.



See the hag, the hearse,

The hard frozen road and the half moon hanging--

They whisper,

Here is your baby girl you lost.

Here is your youth.

Here is your easy life in summertime, the crickets and clear stars,

The lavender and clean sheets,

All the things forgotten, disbelieved or denied.

Here is the basket with no bottom, and here is the hope of carrying them with you anyway.

Here is your heart--

We have saved it through the deepest freeze and weakest light.



I had made a heart of brown leaves and birds' nests, thundersnow and feathers.

Now,

A whole flock flies from it and still, it isn't mine.

I take the new one offered, as if it were strong and worth possessing.



If I have to feel my real heart, let me feel it plain--

My voice will crack the river as I scream.

Give it to me anyway,

I am too tired to fight.

Lie if you need to,

Tell me there is a Mother in Heaven, a Love in the Spring;

Tell me any mad tale that comes to mind--

That what God creates, she loves,

And does not leave behind.

________
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19 comments:

  1. CloudiaFebruary 27, 2011 at 9:59 PM

    Your words

    speak to



    me-






    Aloha from Honolulu,


    Comfort Spiral

    ><}}(°>

    ReplyDelete
  2. UnknownFebruary 27, 2011 at 11:26 PM

    they speak loudly and wonderfully...........your words.....

    ReplyDelete
  3. hedgewitchFebruary 28, 2011 at 12:02 AM

    "..Here is the basket with no bottom, and here is the hope of carrying them with you anyway...."

    It's amazing what you can carry, without even a basket..
    unfortunately,though,
    sometimes it's what you don't want that you can't lay down.

    Mystical and sadder than a nuclear winter.

    ReplyDelete
  4. La Belette RougeFebruary 28, 2011 at 1:05 AM

    I will tell you that there must be a Goddess/God if there is a you. There has to be. I feel gods in creativity and love and beauty and dogs, otherwise I am an agnostic. Here there are lots of all of the above and so I see god here.
    And I want to tell your dreams to be kind to you and to show you all the beauty that you are.
    xoxo

    ReplyDelete
  5. Sherry Blue SkyFebruary 28, 2011 at 1:06 AM

    This poem makes my heart ache. The winter stalks, the dead brides.......the half moon hanging.....the lost baby, the lost youth, the basket with no bottom. This poem says it all about pain, longing, and almost giving up hope while yet hoping. Holy cow, Shay. So damned good.

    ReplyDelete
  6. LynnFebruary 28, 2011 at 9:37 AM

    Yes - it seems to have an ache about it.

    ReplyDelete
  7. UnknownFebruary 28, 2011 at 9:47 AM

    Visceral.
    Written to compel the reader to go on, to feel, to want to respond.
    On a personal note... As you know by now, Dear Shay, I am a weaver and believer of mad tales. I will them into existence.

    ReplyDelete
  8. Sherry Blue SkyFebruary 28, 2011 at 11:59 AM

    Back to read again. Your words brought snow to my valley. "My dreams ice at the edges when I get this tired." I know this kind of tired. Remember and believe: spring will come!!!!! To both earth and tired hearts, once again.

    ReplyDelete
  9. TALONFebruary 28, 2011 at 1:35 PM

    Oh, I can feel this one...winter seems unending...summer seems a dream.

    Beautiful, Shay.

    ReplyDelete
  10. Maude LynnFebruary 28, 2011 at 2:34 PM

    This gets in your bones and aches. Beautifully written, Shay.

    ReplyDelete
  11. DarylFebruary 28, 2011 at 2:55 PM

    These words, feelings touch me deeply.

    ReplyDelete
  12. AnonymousFebruary 28, 2011 at 3:12 PM

    Let this ouija squeegee from Florida scrape the frost off the vantage here (though it is thrilling as it is terrifying), whispering: It has already begun, though madness lingers yet, like frostbite. -- Brendan

    ReplyDelete
  13. Jhon BakerFebruary 28, 2011 at 4:09 PM

    very good, opening 4 lines, wow, we all look for this kind of opening.

    ReplyDelete
  14. UnknownFebruary 28, 2011 at 4:18 PM

    bleak thoughts
    but your pen is on fire

    don't stop Shay :)

    ReplyDelete
  15. Jenne' R. Andrews February 28, 2011 at 4:55 PM

    from where I sit, you are blessed with love, those who come to you in all weathers. that is the source of my own personal agony, not feeling blessed yet with enough of it and making mistakes and not knowing how to stop people from going away. But I persist, I persevere, as do you. this poem rings true-- it's honest, with much art but no artifice. I tweaked the review, the links are now live, photo up-- love, Jenne'

    ReplyDelete
  16. RavenFebruary 28, 2011 at 8:13 PM

    'Lie if you need to,

    Tell me there is a Mother in Heaven, a Love in the Spring;

    Tell me any mad tale that comes to mind--

    That what God creates, she loves,

    And does not leave behind.'

    Yes, please lie to me. The truth is too painful to bear.

    Another stunning poem.

    ReplyDelete
  17. gabrielleFebruary 28, 2011 at 11:15 PM

    What a brave one, she, to gather all of those orphaned things, hold them close again.

    ReplyDelete
  18. ellen abbottMarch 1, 2011 at 9:53 AM

    I'm sending spring your way.

    ReplyDelete
  19. abMarch 1, 2011 at 12:27 PM

    Wow - this one cut right through me with its beautiful, morbid imagery. You captured the weariness and stagnancy of winter perfectly.

    ReplyDelete

Spirit, what do you wish to tell us?

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