WindRose
by Magda Palmer Cordingley, page 4
by Magda Palmer Cordingley, page 4
Searching centuries hope had perished, No one loved and no one cherished; Whispered to the streams beginning In the ridges, cragged and thinning; Nursing panicked rivers blending, Cascading, bleeding veins descending Over convoluted hills Torn by vulgar, belching wills; Coaxing vegetation lie On the shingle strewn nearby; My task on Earth was never failed, Perpetually I dipped and sailed, Until one day my spirit gave, I thirsted not to be Earth's slave; Gathered strength, then howled and screamed, Spun pirouettes till all it seemed Danced before me far away, Like council halls on judgement day. Laughed at "Wind" in taunting fire, Embraced hysterically "My Desire"? The giggled in depraved excess (Corrupted joy and suffering stress) I scrambled cloud in silly game, A cruel, joyful, silly game, Threw spinning fingers at the sun; A twisting, twirling, corkscrew run; Losing present, finding past, Returning to myself at last; Vanished time, deep sleep persuaded, Tranquil realms, exhaustion aided. Felt absolved from prior contention Sleep-drugged dreamers never question! Imagined I had slipped away In saccharin arms of death to stay Waking sudden, felt anew Promised afterlife was true? |  Entered heaven's purest note-
Healing moonbeam of a note,
Admitted like a violet slither,
Heartbeats new, the note delivered;
As blue-hazed day-dreams cast in snow
Spread shadow-flowers night to know;
As freshly fallen, cleansing dew
Lustres all with brilliant hue;
As rising morning’s golden light
Disperses sailors' dread of night,
So the sound restored my being,
Gathered darkness, sent it fleeing;
Contentment welling, newfound grace,
Stretched in luxury, touched my face;
Fearful panic, hideous dread,
Shattered soul, I wasn't dead!
Reminding fire flashed my name,
Tried to eat it, but in vain.
| Orchestras of bells were ringing, Felt a paper bird was winging, Current flying from my finger, From my live-dead-living finger; Finger shaped as unblessed weed- Struggling, unblessed water-weed Grown in rivers rank and sour Waiting, praying death's fine hour; Current flying from my hair- My craving, thready, thistle hair, Tortured hair he looped and tressed; This soothing guest possessed and blessed; Melodic fingers cooled my eyes- My blind and useless, ugly eyes, Reasoned if myself I banished, He and Earth would surely vanish; Then asked to show things as they are, Not apparent from afar. Thinking pensively on past- Drear, hard working, lonely past; Knowing infinite dejection- Not one happy recollection, Feeling this divine creation Primed my numbed imagination; Like a new born land in desert, Chaste, infertile, virgin desert, Wetted with the first time rain Quaffs each drop with guiltless blame; Faster than the famed chameleon, Powerful in lush profusion, Sang by movement to his song, Luscious movements, arched and long; Circling arms in him dissolving, Rippling, rolling, round revolving, Bending to his wanton urging, Upward surging, fearless merging. |
