Tuesday, January 1, 2013

Poem On January 1st

Lovely, sorrowful Saint Creola,
lift this heaviness from me
as easily as taking muffins from the oven.
Turn my tears to blueberries
in the palm of your hand.

It is no small thing,
no trifle,
to take the thorns from a heart
and make it beat again;
blow softly on my blood--
send it rushing, released and contained
all in the same instant.

Sweet Saint Creola,
Mother of all that soothes the eyes
and restores the spirit,
will you think me juvenile and vain when I say
that I could have been beautiful
had not dark roses used my flesh for earth,
spreading small insistent roots through my very breath
like children?

Will you think less of me when I say
that my hair could have been blacker than stars' edges
and longer than the line of Gypsy witches I come from,
if orioles and crows had not nested in me,
using my thoughts to weave
around my dreams
to make their shelter?

Wise Saint Creola,
Mistress of mornings that forgive,
scourge of demons,
speak plainly to me this once, I beg you.
When you touch me with the touch
that I have longed for and not had--
when you sing quietly to me,
your voice calm, holy, and feminine--

I think I must have misheard.
I think I must have been given a taste too sweet
for my wildgirl tongue to take,
when you tell me that you are God's,
and that I am Yours,
more beautiful than
bloom
or bird
or body can be.
_______


21 comments:

Kerry O'Connor said...

Just this morning I wrote a poem about birds using my hair for a nest, but thought it too grim for New Year's Day.

This is an exquisite prayer to your omnipotent feminine deity. One day I would like to leave milk and flowers the colour of blood at her shrine.

hedgewitch said...

Only these measured phrases of yours,Shay, your delicately realized images, perfectly balanced metaphors, can bring the divine into focus for me so clearly, allying the carnal with the infinite, deity with the pierced heart that transcends the flesh even as the flesh bleeds it out. For me, there is no shelter in St Creola's arms, but like Kerry, I would like to leave red roses and blackbirds at her shrine, in gratitude for the grace she gives her Chosen, shared so beautifully here.

Daryl E said...

beautiful and scary .. just the way a new year should begin ...

TexWisGirl said...

'blacker than stars' edges' - wow!

Sherry Blue Sky said...

One of your most beautiful and sorrowing, Shay. With this beginning to the year, I anticipate the poems that will follow! This one sings enough to make one weep.

Helen said...

I love reading your poetry, Shay. Everything you write delights, inspires, takes me to another realm. (a good place to go)

Wishing you a splendid 2013!!

jasmine said...

I cannot express how deeply into my veins and heart you have just pumped your words.

I'll be back for a longer comment later, but just know that this is the kind of poem that ceases to have an author because it cannot be contained by paper, pen, or page. It was not born; it has always been.

Mama Zen said...

This touches god.

Mary said...

That is just beautiful, Shay. Love the last stanza especially.

Cloudia said...

"Wise Saint Creola,
Mistress of mornings that forgive,
scourge of demons,
speak plainly to me this once, I beg you."

Your work speaks to what makes me 'me'


Aloha & Happy New Year wishes
from Honolulu,
Comfort Spiral
~ > < } } ( ° >
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Sadia Khan said...

Its just so btfly written...checked your blog once and now feel like going through it again and again...Happy new year ..

Sioux said...

The line about "blood--released and contained all in the same instant" is a wonderful one.

I hope this year brings you everything you desire, Shay.

myheartslovesongs.com said...

divine is too plain a word for this. and, yes, you are

"more beautiful than
bloom
or bird
or body can be."

the second stanza is perfection!

Susan said...

"It is no small thing,
no trifle,
to take the thorns from a heart
and make it beat again;
blow softly on my blood--"
Wow.
I hope it is not too sweet to hear, to taste what is so true.
You two reflect each other.
All the lush images of her I google lead me back here where she grows and flows from your fingers over the years. You are changing the history of the earth, and you are due love and bloom and touch and all you desire. Thank you. Blessed Be. Happy New Year.

Sara said...

Wow. This poem touched me deeply. The last stanza brought tears to my eyes. Sometimes all it takes is one beautiful moment to alter our view. It's like cleaning a dirty window and suddenly seeing the blue sky outside again.

As always, your writing flows and dances. There are so many dance moves in this poem, I can't list them all. Just know if touched my heart and that you are "more beautiful than bloom or bird or body can be."

Hannah said...

You've touched some ancient sacred beauty here. Such deep and heart rendered writing...the end is perfect I love that you string those last lines the way you did...slows one down to take in the brevity and power of the close. Such excellent writing, Shay.

Margaret said...

when you tell me that you are God's,
and that I am Yours,
more beautiful than
bloom
or bird
or body can be.

... Simply, Amen.

grapeling said...

I'm so glad you pointed this out. Sometimes I feel remiss in not knowing looking back into the archives - and I should feel that way, after reading this. ~

Sherry Blue Sky said...

So beautiful. I love "turn my tears to blueberries" and "when you touch me with the touch that i have longed for and not had."

Kim Nelson said...

The yearning, wanting, needing wrap around the readers' heart and squeeze. Raw and honest and revealing.

cosmos cami said...

Just wow.
This is from a very deep pool inside you, isn't it?