Sunday, August 09, 2009

Sunday Scribbling #175: New

[new drink]

Sister, come away with me
Lay ye down:
We’ll cross sapphire black water
Churning home, as home can be
Mountain dark
You’ll know the rocky shore
Atop the world’s gloom
Fire at your back, my tin cup in hand
That’s life you’re drinking, lass
Nothing more or less
Black life, ancient life, swooned life
Ours—

Clouds feather your hair
I’ll gather leaves to match your eyes
Shade green upon your limbs
Remember as it was before it wasn’t
Those times, the fire of blood in the body
Time well spent
None of the dismal that did us in

There’s rivers for you, sister
Moons to swell the belly and set it free
Our mountains will grow as grows your fine lad

Take boat with me, girl
I’ll take you to darkest bloom
A rose to swell the heart
You’d not think the world
Such beauty as our mountain’s cry

Tis good—
I am never far—
Never—
I’ve me longboat to take your pains to shore
My weave of flowers to braid ye
My evidence of things past to things new
Drink this, darlin’, for all that ails ye

Yea, it will pierce the wound.

I’ll carry ye
I’ll row ye
I’ll mother ye as sweet and loving ye did your boy
He’ll carry ye in his heart always

Up the mountain, girl
There are waters hot for
Body & the mooring mind
Scald the tar out of demons
But leave the living slack,
Blessed, vital in the Mother’s loom.

Come, my sister
Do not tarry
There be moon in your tea
And in your heart there be merry.

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16 Comments:

Blogger Teresa said...

Wow. I need to come back again and savor this one! I really like it.

6:46 PM  
Blogger murat11 said...

Teresa: This was written for Gwyneth, a four-centuries old woman deeply embedded in Tina's and my DNA.

7:16 PM  
Blogger Dee Martin said...

I have read this four times and still feel like a junior high kid with nothing to say except uh...wow

well maybe one little thing...

This is highlands mist, steam rising from the loch, rugged, sweaty, whispers of druid times, holy crap, good.

7:29 PM  
Blogger murat11 said...

Thank you, Dee: comes to me now that this is a sister piece to Simon.

7:32 PM  
Blogger floreta said...

i like the flow of this

7:35 PM  
Blogger murat11 said...

Floreta: Thank you; I've seen flow like this in your pieces.

7:58 PM  
Blogger Teresa said...

Well, putting it four centuries back into Wales (where you would get people named Gwyneth) makes it even better. I can see the waters and the trees and the tin cup and the dark tea and the peat fires in the thatched hut and the streams and the hills and the sapphire black water. Very evocative. I love it.

8:29 PM  
Blogger murat11 said...

Teresa: I'm glad you got it. It was all very vivid when I wrote it, still is when I re-read it.

6:04 AM  
Blogger Sepiru Chris said...

*swoon*

8:39 AM  
Blogger murat11 said...

Mil gracias, Chris.

11:44 AM  
Anonymous Bobbie said...

Such a sweet write! I could sing this, it flows off the lips so brilliantly!

9:40 AM  
Blogger Daily Panic said...

I read this and re-read it again slow. Your words took me there. the words are full of love. Very nice post.

11:22 AM  
Blogger MichaelO said...

Beautiful, brother. Divine eloquence to share with a life long lover. Perfection.

6:45 PM  
Blogger murat11 said...

Thank you very much, Bobbie: sing it, please do!

8:11 PM  
Blogger murat11 said...

Ms Panic: Thank you for taking the time you did with this piece: I can feel the attention you gave it.

8:14 PM  
Blogger murat11 said...

Michael: Good to hear your words; thank you very much. Be well up there, mi hermano!

8:16 PM  

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