Wandering, lost, one Fall afternoon in Zurich past an overgrown private garden.


Garden Goddess

" . . . the deathless
nobility at the core of all ordinary things."
- Gary Snyder, "Word Basket Woman"


Not so much fractured as revealing
Of something never intended, a long
Lost last devotion perhaps, unbearable
Even for an immortal marble goddess.

What had she once held in her arm
That weighed upon her so heavily,
A burden beyond her holding on
That snapped and severed her very veins?

Or perhaps it was in an empty gesture
That she had pointed into some distance,
Reaching back as if to grasp where once
Her hidden heart had not yet broken.

The expression on her face is fixed
In a stoic sadness we can understand,
Seeing it carved in our own mirror-images,
The shattered inner edges of age

That expose the shape of what is lost.
We know statues should not feel pain
And yet somehow we feel hers . . .
Our own hurt hearts not made of stone.




Poetry by countryfog
Read 659 times
Written on 2010-11-22 at 15:03

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Mklnay
This is so beautifully written that it's haunting; spectacular, spectacular write. ;)
Favourite~
2010-11-23


existence
subtle feelings captured well
"Reaching back as if to grasp where once
Her hidden heart had not yet broken"
"And yet somehow we feel hers . . .
Our own hurt hearts not made of stone"
Danke!
2010-11-23


John Ashleigh
T'was a nice journey as I read every word. Your poetry sings with beauty, yet it's so solid. Solid enough to etch the mood of your poetry into ones head. Thankyou for sharing, my friend..

regards,
John.
2010-11-22