Wednesday, September 10, 2014

Tuesday Poem: Another From The Post-deluvian Water Series


Twice a year are the rememberings.

Each Naiad stepping up and doing her part
as spirit anchor, holding on to what was,
and what could come again of water’s blessing.

It’s a conjuring: first, faucet water,
sweet as wild grasses, with no
after taste of the barrel,

then showers falling inside the house,
all unctuous warm, softening
muscles, pinking our bodies cleanly,

mist and drizzle dancing in the air,
bringing earth smell to its full musk, neither 
drench, nor hammer, nor sodden destroyer,

streams brisk on the face, sweet and
cooling on the tongue, a gurgling
tune played on downed logs, twigs, and rocks,

heavy buckets of bounty rising
up the well shaft for all to share in
every manner of sacred ablution,

fountains shooting crystal arcs into
the heat of day, glazing graceful iron babies
and birds, sending the rest of us blessed spray,

rivers benign and lazy, that never once raged or
spilt over their banks, engulfing houses and 
towns, leaving mold tentacles to 
fester behind the recede.

The clear debris-free pond, the rocky cove,
the waterfall, and moss grown creek,
the benevolent silence of the snow flurry.

Luna’s remembering is the lake’s
cool silk, the way it held a body afloat
without you going all rashy and burning.

Each Naiad leading the rest back to
Paradise, water as it was 
when we were innocent: free and clear.

No comments: