Saturday, June 3, 2017

Cautious Renaissance

Beata Beatrix by Dante Gabriel Rossetti


I am a fallen angel, struck by
the thunderbolt of wonder and desire,
exiled to a destiny of solitary emancipation.

But, hear me, now:
I am also a woman of truth.

And so, I must, you know . . .

I must transport myself into
a certain willingness that embraces 
this brave new autonomy.

I must enact this deepest form of 
worship that knows not how to ask, 
but only to receive.

I must open, submit . . . believe.

I have wandered in a Dantean limbo
for eternity. And, I have fallen . . . 
risen . . . and fallen again.

I seek the promise of relief.

The sky will soon be evening-gowned 
in black silk and brilliant diamonds.

The oil-smooth river will ripple like mercury
beneath the milky glow of the moon.

The owl will weep once more.

And, I? I will fall 
like a lush tree in a postmodern forest.
who will witness this . . . ?
No one will hear my cries.

And so, I must . . .
I must this rebirth allow.
I must this Self redeem.

4 comments:

  1. Hello Nevine! So nice to see your post. It appears that you've lost none of your great writing skills. Such great imagery! I can still see the ripples on that oil-smooth river. Very good Nevine and very nice to see you here.

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    1. Pat, thank you! Such a pleasure to see you here, and it feels great to be back... :-)

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  2. Welcome back! Your words...melt me.

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    1. Thank you, Kim! I appreciate you... :-)

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Your thoughts are deeply appreciated.