Crucibles BCR

Crucibles

Beyond the purple twilight

Over the silken moon

My past beckons me softly

Come, visit me soon.

Marigolds light up my garden 

Raising orange and yellow heads  

Tucking sweet dawn into the dimness

Before they go to bed.

The scaly barks of placid trees

Looms like gigantic, scraped knees

Shaking lofty branches admonishingly

Rustling secret whispers from every leaf

At me...

Recalling past seasons of rain and shower

Climbing up to the roof of the water tower

Felling sweet blackberries with a broken branch

Oh purplish fleshy juices, come resurrect me!

Grooving to teen town's hypnotic beats

Music fluttered through winged vibrant feet

Muse, I solemnly believed in you

The earth and sky bore witness true.

No one can hurt me; such is this power

I am the child of my past golden hours 

Nursed on joy’s tender innocent bower

And if you haven't had such sweet beginnings

I forgive thee.

Colour me violet’s humbled grace

Yellow in sun’s optimistic face

Pacific heart nestling blue ocean peace

Colour me rose, I blush to please

When in love's ardour, my love starts 

To tease...Let my steel grey armour 

Seek no more to protect, but release

Secure and chaste in memories.

Keep me fresh and lissom evergreen

Tender stalks for blossoming buds

If I break in pain still, I thank,

That I can feel...so let me hurt.

Oh, let me hurt within sweetly, 

My softness only swells and grows,

Liquid avalanche of untainted snow

The payment of mercy’s tender price.

Flagellation by your gentle lies

Mist of pain, love’s exquisite fee,

Sorrow is healing’s sweet cocoon

Shielding nakedness from discovery.

Wrath strips stainless sheath defending soul

Rage shames our serene grace away

Hidden costs is our forever loss 

Of fragrance from folds of introverted rose.

Only a scent of sorrow left behind

Ashen velvet folds in static pose.

Water with tears and it may unfold

Heart of gold and face the sun of life

Willingly it withers, time’s till emptied,

Courage untold kisses dirt and dies,

Never to blossom, graceful girl,

From stoic childhood’s austere womb.

Not of gold nor gems or precious stone

Nature’s maid made of flesh, blood, and bone

In transition, moults, sheds grief and loss,

Rising resplendent from every tomb.

Keep spirit vital, till life itself dies

Play love’s lute. Sing psalms with Lenten eyes,

Cup love’s chalice in palms, warm holy grail

At crossroads, abjure pain’s scourging trail.

Forever, that brooding ghost is spiritus animus

Of every happiness known to Adam’s line,

The hidden costs of a universe made from love

Joy baptised with dew of pain’s holy most wine.

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© Amrita Valan 2014