Wednesday, November 13, 2013

The Orpheus who does not look back

Call me Orpheus.
The one who charms the wild beasts
and becomes what he sings.
The one who goes down
to the Netherworld
to rescue a lost soul
and braves Death  on his dark throne
and sings so sweet and strong
that mercy flowers from stone.
I am not the one in your stories
who lost her again by looking back.

When those who can't have me
try to kill me, their weapons won't obey them.
When the jealousy demons
turn their fingers into claws
my body yields, but I go on singing
until my severed parts come together again.

I speak to you in golden leaves
I give you the best directions
for the journey all must take.
Go right at the fountain by the white cypress.
When the Gatekeeper challenges you

remember to say:
I am born of earth and of starry sky
my race is of heaven alone

-Big Sur, California, November 13, 2013

Photo (c) Robert Moss. Orpheus mosaic in Archaeological Museum, Istanbul.


AScentCo said...


Patricia said...

I had this dream on October 27th:

I was in a dark place. Black and I could only see when movement happened. There were people here. I got on the boat and a few others were on the boat with me. There was a long conversation as we moved in this long deeply carved hull of a canoe, away from the dark. You shouldn't take anything from the dark one lady said. Mummbled agreements and no one had a good explanation as to why not. The boat man who was my master welder friend who I learned about welding from yesterday, did not speak. I shot upward like a theif from the dark with this something in my hand. I found a place with a little more light where I could descern what it was I was taking from the dark. All I could see was flashes of indigo light. Very well, back down to the boat. I made an argument for the taking of this out of the dark. The boat man agreed to allow it. Let us see what it is that is in your hand. It was a silver frame, nicely polished. We looked at the corners together and I new the weld inside must have been from a master because the outside corners were seamless. No edges, no time I thought to myself and my grasp easily held this frame. He dropped me off on a mound that was brown, no green yet I thought. There was a mother and her child waiting.