Thursday, April 1, 2010

Arthurian Morning

     The full moon greeted me as I stepped out the door, placing herself square in front of me so that I could not watch the road without watching her. She gathered her orchestra of violin clouds and sang with the CD.
     Illuminated stars became shattered pieces of my heart. Pieces offered in love and pieces taken in greed. Pieces taken for granted by myself and others.
     Turning right the moon plays tag and darts over to the left hiding behind trees and houses. When I turn left she dances to the other side, no longer leading, guiding and showing me the way. Why can she not stay in front and show me the way? Why can’t I drive towards her and slide on the Milky Way? Why can she not share a constellation with me? Why can she not spell out a word, just one, to tell me whether I travel the right path?
     A curve in the road places her square in my vision. Her full grin has now softened to a Mona Lisa smile. A knowing smile. A smile whose beam illuminates the metal on a building. For a brief moment the building’s side, a sliver, a piece, catches moon fire and glistens in a white brilliance. A sword.
     The hands of my spirit reach out and grab the sword. Like Arthur I brandish it against the night sky. The infirmities of age released, I thrust it into the blackness of the sky and claim it my own. The ram’s horns of war bellow and the pieces of my heart amass and are drawn towards the sword. My spirit wants to melt but stands strong, tall and poised commanding their return by my stature, my strength and my fearlessness.
     The pieces, now soldiers, encircle me. I set my face towards the moon with arms raised high. My warrior’s voice, deep and raspy from the years, bellows towards her waning presence, “If I am lost I shall travel in this good company. And if not lost I shall send them forth to find those who are.”
     I wait for her reply but none is heard. Dropping my arms my spirit inhales the night sky. I grab the sword still quivering from the force of my strength. Extracting it from the sky I thrust it back again shaking the sky. The pieces, the soldiers, like drops of mercury, go rolling across the night sky.
     Smiling, I return to my castle, my heart, my home. Entering the gates I order the guards to leave the drawbridge down. They look at me puzzled, concerned for my safety. A slight chuckle tickles my face. “The others will be back soon and with them, their friends.”

[reposted from my blog]

2 comments:

彥良國男 said...

I do like ur article~!!!..................................................

Marilyn said...

Beth, loved the imagery. The poetry in this piece of the internal and external dance on the page. A beautiful place to go in the reader's mind.