Sunday, July 8, 2012

Relativity

St. Creola is Our Lady of the Shoreline.
Drowning sailors call to her,
but beautifully, like carolers.

St. Creola is unperturbed by them.
They are leaves gently falling
from those trees--their wooden ships.

The beach has so many grains of sand,
changing color with every passing wave;
and the waves arrive ceaselessly, like babies.

St. Creola advises to accept peace where and when you can.
Rushing water makes as poor a floor as roof,
so bless the dry interlude, and the fruit section offered at noon.

The sun has warmed St. Creola,
and when the moon arrives, later,
she will still be here--
a pretty Constant
under the imprimatur of the clouds and stars.
_______

21 comments:

TexWisGirl said...

once again, you speak well above my brain's capability.

(but on a side note, i like this emmylou photo much better!) :)

Mama Zen said...

St. Creola gives good advice.

cloudia charters said...

you well create a sensibility that I call "Shay." It's internal logic calls to me lazily, like drowned babies. . . .


palabras encantadors!


Wishing you a pleasant week with
Aloha from Waikiki
Comfort Spiral
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hedgewitch said...

Mystical, misted, and serene if a bit dark with the carols of the drowned. Waves that are as frequent as babies stays with me, as if women are giving birth like the tide all over the world,part of some inexorable force, and while I'm not much for religious overtones, still, I feel that the idea of a Constant mystery is something the spirit needs to carry in its pocket. Lovely piece, Shay, and seems effortless, though I know that's from the outside looking in.

Kerry O'Connor said...

I love me some St Creola, wherever I may find her.. down by the sea is a good place. I love the Men At Work song you chose to accompany this poem..

Sioux said...

"Rushing water makes as poor a floor as roof" is a wonderful line. Bits of whimsy, along with a serious thread...

Men at Work. What a blast from the past.

Margaret said...

Rushing water makes as poor a floor as a roof...

No matter how pretty the men sing, it doesn't sound like St. Creola is doing much saving! I guess that hammock is tad to comfortable :)

kez said...

wonderful tale ...thank you x

Susan said...

How your song adds the yearning for death and its peace!

"They are leaves gently falling
from those trees--their wooden ships./ The beach has so many grains of sand, / changing color with every passing wave; / and the waves arrive ceaselessly, like babies."

Men from trees, babies from waves--she takes the first in and lets the second out--Mother Nature with no feelings, except the sea sighs of "it's always been this way." Your images will haunt me and slowly alter my radical feminist view of mother nature.

Daryl Edelstein said...

i love this: under the imprimatur of the clouds and stars

kaykuala said...

The good soul that she is, a savior to behold. Love this!

Hank

Abin Chakraborty said...

Men have always longed for such goddesses whose indifference to their fates has produced scores of sonnets and ballads. This is the fireblossom version of La belle dame sans merci.

Sherry Blue Sky said...

Wow. Fantastic writing. I especially love "bless the dry interlude".......and the last two lines are stellar.

Lynn said...

St. Creola is pretty smart.

Helen said...

I am in awe of St. Creola .... bless you my child.

rosemary mint said...

Listening to this tune while I read, I picture her dancing in the sand with her eyes closed---the deaths around her as much a part of nature as the births. Life and death, war and peace, love and pain---it is all a gentle falling from trees to a gypsy goddess of the sea. She is wise and knows the beauty and danger in building a house made of water.

This is sage advice: "accept peace where and when you can" and "so bless the dry interlude, and the fruit section offered at noon" ... Appreciate what you have, lest you be carried off by the undertow.

I love that she is the center of the sun, moon, clouds, and stars---that she has their approval and backing. She knows things. No wonder the flailing are crying out to her.

The title makes it clear that all things look different depending on perspective; everything is relative. This is how the dying can be leaves gently falling around her as she dances.

Gemma Wiseman said...

Instantly I thought of "Creole" - generically meaning those of mixed heritage or parentage! As if this Lady is the constant light/beacon - maybe even siren - for those who sail from anywhere. Fascinating poem!

Mary said...

St. Creola is very good and very wise! May many learn from her.

Mary Mansfield said...

St. Creola is certainly wise, but definitely not one to be trifled with! Love this!

Herotomost said...

I often go to St. Creola for inspiration. That Men at Work song is fabby, I love it. Sweet.

Kay L. Davies said...

Wow, Shay, this is gorgeous. Wonderful work you do, my dear.
K