"You pluck strange dirges from the storm
sift rare stones from the ashes of the moon"
You've always been this way.
It's what drew me to you in May
of '71. Me with storms in my life
that needed music and moon-struck strife
that begged a mining of sorts, a sifting through
remains searching for stones you blew
to life like a shaman, prelude to all that came after.
We mined together then and sang out loud until we crafted
our sweet song. That time the strange dirge was sung
over our first daughter you stayed in such a way that along
with storm's barrage and from the ashes, we rose, not triumphant,
but still standing, longing that phoenix might bring bereft
to some other incarnation, any other incarnation than only gone,
us left alone, two not three, with nothing more to be done.
Posted for Grace at Real Toads who introduced us to the poetry of Wole Soyinka, the first Nobel Laureate in Literature from Africa and asked us to use his work as inspiration. The first two lines of this poem are his from the poem: Fado Singer for Amelia Roderinguez. The photo was taken by my Honey at the National Orchid Garden in Singapore.
over our first daughter you stayed in such a way that along
with storm's barrage and from the ashes, we rose, not triumphant,
but still standing, longing that phoenix might bring bereft
to some other incarnation, any other incarnation than only gone,
us left alone, two not three, with nothing more to be done.
Posted for Grace at Real Toads who introduced us to the poetry of Wole Soyinka, the first Nobel Laureate in Literature from Africa and asked us to use his work as inspiration. The first two lines of this poem are his from the poem: Fado Singer for Amelia Roderinguez. The photo was taken by my Honey at the National Orchid Garden in Singapore.
