The iceheart holds within safe-stored
A cracked and splintered dream
Bound up with frayed and raveling cord
The shards of yesterday
To tumble in the torrent’s rush
Tomorrow’s pebbles there
Speak words that crumble in the hush
Giving rise to today
What was, what is, what might have been
When all is done and said
Regret, remorse can split the skin
And ice of phoenix breaks free
Summer sand means he can fly
Absent wings hinder not
And helpless gravity
Cannot restrain imagining
Dragon clouds are stepping stones
Leading to the stars
Where pirates sail ocean stars
In galleons made of dreams
While scurvy dogs, or friends perhaps,
Cheer on his victories.
Weight and counterweight
Momentum for his thoughts
Launch reason from its stodgy shelf.
Old ones say that he can’t
Denying dragons do exist
Demanding homage paid to ‘truth.’
For all their ‘no, you can’t’
Still his feet push back the sky.
Solid air costumes all the trees
With wedding garb in still of day,
Draws icy fingers up swords of grass
Overtaking hollows and turned rows.
Wall of fog taunts with hidden hope
Hither come and find what might be.
Hidden just beyond its circled line
Wealth, romance, or fame must wait
For those who dare to enter in.
Closer, closer step, seeking ones,
The voice of frozen silk plights its troth
Promises dreams, but dreamers wake.
Envelopes of frigid fog give way
Illusions vanish in broad daylight
Trees dressed in melting tatters
Vigil keep for false fog-made love.
In his fur is buried there
The scent of Africa and home
Broad velvet nose skyward turned
Petitions Artemis for grace.
Please, a pride to call his own,
No more the wanderer’s ways,
A springbok in his view,
Favor for the crouching stalk
Obscured by wind-moved grass,
Blessing on the sprinting pounce
To pour sweet life into his mouth.
Finis to concrete and to bars
To cold tossed slabs of meat
To stifling meager cage,
Goddess of the hunt, grant
Once, just once, a kill
Doors to heaven take many shapes
Doors to hell but one.
Wimpled children sitting there
Given to the church
Upon the altars sacrificed
For sins of parents
Atonement wearing black and gray
Payment of a debt,
Or gratitude for favors shown
What sin, what boon
Demands a daughter in return?
Proud prophets speak
Of purity, of blameless lives
Preserved from sin
But sin, they say, is human state
Common to us all
Impossible to avoid.
Circling shields of prayer
Are pervious to their sin.
No wall as yet made
Strong enough to hold back self
No scourge-striped back
Removes the taste of humanity.
Does the church not know
Sanctity of life ex utero?
There is a moment all in time
When temptation bleeds the soul
And in the depths of passion’s rhyme
Beneath the peace of glassy lake
Silent crippled demons dance
Stepping purple heaven’s tune
Just one moment holds the chance
But moments pass away
And in their exit leave behind
Hollowed empty hearts of man
Hope drained, bereft, soul blind
Hidden by the ooze of muck
Heart on heart the strata laid
Weighed down with cumbering time
There the world by rock-hearts made
Rising through the mist
When in the ground he lay
Supine, compassed to north
With nothing left to be
Could they not, looking, see
The door to exit?
No wooden box
No north and south
No straightened shell
Curl him round, leave him bare
Lie him on his side
Wrapped in soft cloth,
Ready to be birthed.