The lyre of living flesh performs
the songs shaped by the pliant tongue,
words that turn the tides and seasons,
rhythms that bring forth the grain,
melodies that soothe the lonely,
pacify the child in pain.
I heard such songs when I was young,
and learned to sing them in my turn,
retained their echoes in my bones,
their resonance within my skin -
songs whose diapason spans
the azure and the indigo
sun's blinding, immolating swan
and dry moon's icy eidolon;
voices set in motion by creation's
infinite desire, worlds where no
beginning seeks an end…
The songs that echo in the bones
© Copyright: Jena Woodhouse, 2006
Свидетельство о публикации №106090900422
Свидетельство о публикации №106090900422
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