What I'm talking about is an ailment of spirit,
an ennui of the heart.
It is not so much a seeking after angels
as a naming of devils.
Though these devils may sometimes be native,
most are introduced
like curare-tainted crosses slipped under our pillows
to teethe on at night.
We wobble into daylight, bright as fevers,
the lovely stricken
who learn to trick demons lazy for years or hours
or just the next blessed moment.
The well is poisoned, yes, but the hallucinations are rare,
butterflies of the injured mind.
We see loves bringing roses that are really lilies
for us discarded, already dead.
We are the gorgeous idiots, God's blind swans searching
for the blossoming branch,
mistaking the loaded barrel for Gilead's balm and leaving poems there
rolled, with ribbons, like answered prayers.
________
for Word Garden Word List #15 (Millay).
top image: major arcana tarot "The Fool"
the amazing Toni Childs
This is utterly beautiful, Shay. So many good lines. Without fail, there are always phrases in your poetry that wow me. Such as these beauties:
ReplyDelete"a naming of devils"
"We wobble into daylight, bright as fevers" - ADORE
"The well is poisoned, yes, but the hallucinations are rare,
butterflies of the injured mind."
"leaving poems there
rolled, with ribbons, like answered prayers."
Bloody love your work <3
Stanza #1 gave me pause. Ukraine on my mind. Search for the blossoming branch .. lay down our pain .. the gorgeous idiots, why can we not learn from the past?
ReplyDeleteWhatever I was expecting as a response from you to this challenge, it wasn't this exquisite, almost abstract thing of beauty and clarity of language. From the first stanza I had to prop up my jaw at the wording, how it danced across the mind with every nuance and gesture almost ethereally graceful yet with a concrete power impossible to miss. All the wars we fight, all that wounds and kills, all our devils which are more real than angels, or at least more persistently in our face, can seem overwhelming, yet out of this carnage comes a great lesson of the strength and endurance of the heart. The first two stanzas (from which I could but will not pull lines like petals,) took my breath away, and your last brought tears to my eyes. Just an amazing piece, Shay. Amazing.
ReplyDeleteWhat HW said. And this: "We wobble into daylight, bright as fevers..."
ReplyDeleteThis might be one of your best ending lines ever: "mistaking the loaded barrel for Gilead's balm and leaving poems there rolled, with ribbons, like answered prayers."
Our neighbors have turned on us. Like a civil war making devils who are acting on fake news and propaganda to be as devils.
ReplyDeleteI like this, Shay. Thank you for prompting with such challenging lists of words.
..
"We see loves bringing roses that are really lilies
ReplyDeletefor us discarded, already dead.
We are the gorgeous idiots, God's blind swans searching
for the blossoming branch,"
This is darkly beautiful, Shay. Your words move me... They're almost hard to read.
-David [ben Alexander]
http://skepticskaddish.com/
I have always thought that the much more dangerous devils are the native ones
ReplyDeleteI love every line of this deep and lovely poem Shay but the last line is spectacular!
ReplyDeleteShay--The last line of each stanza perfectly finishes up the stanza.
ReplyDeleteAs always, moving.
"We wobble into daylight, bright as fevers,
ReplyDeletethe lovely stricken
who learn to trick demons lazy for years or hours
or just the next blessed moment."
that's pretty much how i feel about it... very well said