AEAEA
Recurring Dream Island

August 2003
 
 

25 August 2003
 

You Saw It Open
 

Wake to this strangeness:  creeping fingers
working the latch of the shadow-door
beneath the damp leaves where the softly keening
woman you heard at some frail heart’s core
has ventured a weather most deeply distant,
sought the design at its own far heart,
silvered it open where senses listen
sweetly to learn the stored darkness-art
it lives as it dreams, and then gained its blessing
vividly.  Bearing it here and now
toward you—by magic that wavers less than
stands as a vast eternal vow
of silence inverted, heart-dark silver
revealed by a sudden singing light
that leaks into tightly clasped hands’ willing
weakening—she means signs and sight:
YOU ARE within vision’s sudden compass.
Let it illuminate all lore.
See and be seen.  Where what was slumber
leans to love’s sway, a vatic door
swings wider than air, all breathing music
rushing to touch where our wise hands clasp
to the tune of—How strange!  It’s using you to
saw through the ancient song-door’s hasp!