Waters of Memory
In the fields that spread before us
Lies shyly hidden the waters of Mnemosyne.
Like lovers reunited after ash-cloud wars
We set off journeying to the waters.
Through titanic clouds and spikenard winds
We travel the fields of manifold lives.
When we arrive we will let lay on our tongues
The waters that silence the night of the mind.
As we drink, the borders to paradise will fade
And we may migrate back and forth
Over the horizons of Elysium;
Not as gods, not as heroes,
But as two souls unforgettably conjoined.
In her youth, Athena took on the name
Of her sister Pallas, when she mistakenly killed her.
Pallas Athena, born screaming and crying,
Was patroness of wisdom and heroes
Bound to love by the fragile bonds of grief.
As you take my name on the morrow
Pallas Athena will watch over you in lilac envy.
For your new name, writ in nature’s roar,
Will bound you to love and the threads of the Fates
By the immortal bonds of joy.
This Small Flame
A small flame cackles
In the palm of my hands.
I hold it like a wounded dove.
I feel I am being watched:
By a crow, a bull, an oak.
The flame glowers icy blue
Like clouds illuminated
By split-second thunder,
I wait for the flames
To rain Pandoran tears
Or sweat out humid
Waters of Mnemosyne.
At times the flame
Prick like cacti blades.
A thousand arachnids
That bite and burn.
Only when the hands
Come to rest upon me
Does the flame pupate
Into a small mountain;
Peaks peep through
And snows glisten sharp.
The flame now feels
Of delicate softness’s
And now I know
What it is I have stolen;
The migrating flame of hope.