Friday, 19 December 2014
Of Princely Monks and Waiting Women
Time in the cave may bring you closer to silence,
But the young child's cry more sweetly calls.
Entrancing chants voice old stories, enhance old memories,
But it is the one tongue that tells the time-held tales lived through every life.
The silence of the cave neither stills nor stalls the calls of turning worlds.
The glance of a full-blooded woman can dance you to forgotten times.
Wild seed thrashes through crimson bed, finding, fusing and fixing fates
That await their own awakening.
We are all free to leave. But some will choose to stay,
To feel the pain, to heal the hurt, to break the chain.
The princes have taken their leave.
The murmur of mothers softens the cries of those left behind.
Sweet comfort, strong as touch, sways through the dark nights.
Why walk on when you can hold another close?