Monday, November 26, 2007

Tears of a Daughter



Tears of a Daughter

The West coast harbours her
x
Where orca's surge
x
Waves crash
x
Pulling her under
x
Imagining
x
the tears of a daughter
x
~streaming~
~screaming~
~dreaming~
x
of swimming back to the ocean
x
that bore the rivers
x
to her renunciation.
~
.

From this Place, Where I Wait

From this Place, Where I Wait

From this place, where I wait
I can hear the waves thrashing like beating fists
Undefeated, seeking justice, against the rock of the goddess.
Upon the wind, the sea delivers, in churning foam
The sweet aroma of her birth.
This scent intoxicates me.
Life. Love. Beauty.
x
x
There are voice's all around me.
Lamentations of the fallen, requiems of the innocent.
Wailings, whisperings. Murmurs in the fog.
The names of loved ones, echoing, searching.
I am cold, here in this sweltering desert, where I wait
But one tree ~ looms.
Shading my soul from the darkness. Offering light to the lost.
Branches extended, pleading, sprouting secrets, that cannot be heard.
x
I could taste the salt of your tear drops, stinging
Burning, as they hit the flame, within the shrine
That you built, for me, in the corner of the kitchen, on that day.
Sizzling sorrows in a timeless expanse of agony.
I wait, as the ghosts of dark haired, virgin daughters,
blush upon my grave.
They beckon, for me, to join them, dancing in circles, mourning, weeping
For a life ~ that will never be.
x
x
Once known to me, but now of strangers, is this land.
All these years. I was right here. I felt your presence. That day.
The cascading white petals, of your flowers,
sparkled down through my spirit
And covered my place, like a blanket of snow, unexpected warmth,
in the cool black earth.
Love is Imperishable. Indestructable. Incorruptible. Tenacious.
Like a magnet my essence pulls you North. To this place.
I knew you would come. The waiting is over.
It is time, for you, to take me home.
x
________________________________
About the poem:
Tony's older brother Pavlos, went missing in action during the Turkish invasion of Cyprus in 1974. Recently, a mass grave was dug up close to the green line that divides the country in half. One side is greek and one side is now Turkish. The unmarked grave was dug under a tree. It is the only tree to be seen for miles, within that desert of nothingness. It is also the tree where Tony's mother layed her flowers a few years ago ~ not knowing ~ where her son might be. She placed them upon the branches of that tree. The tree above the grave where Pavlos and lost members of his troop are now believed to have been buried. I wrote this poem in the voice of Pavlos. I was touched by the energy of this story. How did his mother know? Tony's family was also very touched by this poem. They are going to have this published in Cyprus ~ as a memorial to all the missing sons, fathers, brothers....

Divine Gifts

Through me
You paved a pathway
Once of heaven
Now of earth
Angelic gifts, bequeathed
By the creator
Channeled through
The purity of birth
x
Kindred spirits
Intertwined amidst
Enchanted tangled webs
Exuberant knots of string
Eternally bound and knowing
Foreboding
Eachothers wounds
Even, before they sting
x
The very essence of divinity
Sustenance of my soul
x
Your energy
X
Reflecting
Affecting
Resurrecting
X
Is the substance
That makes me whole.

~Tulip Dreams~

Beneath winters sheath
she sleeps
lucid dreams
of flooding beds
symmetrical fields of red
and Van Gogh
Painted yellow, gold
loath, she grows
without rows
dazed
astray
admist strange flora
Solitare
she questions, where
weeping, braving
stifled tears
fleur-de-lys jeers
culled reveries


_______________________


Mother of Child - Lost

Masked, deep and clouded within the echoes of my soul
Rests the longing for the one who bore a child long ago
A craving for the touch, the smile, devotion never known
For I am but that wounded child who now is fully grown

Miles apart, in some small town, exists the one who ran away
Leaving everything behind, alone, with no attempt, to stay
Living a life of secrets, passing time, with only lies
Her story never spoken, hushed, until the day she dies

Aging empty eyes, thoughts so pure, a struggling memory
Her auburn hair, her olive eyes, how soft her voice could be
Questions without answers, so much I do not know
How could she have abandoned, the child, she had loved so

Endless, restless, sleepless nights, every night the same
Her eyes affix upon a star, that may shine upon her babe
Wretched, cold and weary, by all she is perceived
Yet her womb is torn and aching, for the child once conceived