I
You rise out of flat stone
the shield
of your heart.
The moon crosses the sun.
Do we
become light
when we dream?
The folds of your corduroy
like ridges and hollows
furrows where the Spring runoff
sculpts a geology
in a landscape of tundra.
"passageways and connections thatIn our Klondike, cross and beams
happen deep within us when in relation
to another..." Nancy Otto
hold the tunnels we dig through
to find the gold in each other,
rich veins tracing through the rock
like sunlight.
II
Spring is a tendril
of green;
the leaves a papery mass of veins unfolding.
Cliffs of grass by the old mine ripple
in the wind.
We are like those two trees
ancient, weathered, yet
our roots thoroughly
intertwined.
What is
underground
is what holds us.
The deeper passageways
and connections.
III
I wear the crescent moon in my hair,
the cold northern air;
you are the sun buried in the land,
illumined from within.
The sharp edges
in each moment
bind us.
My Adoni, my Aholi,
even in this harsh typography
you are a landscape of love,
a cartography of desire.
©Brenda Clews 2006
>
Photographs were taken by me.
Poem and commentary written in April, 2006:
The title that I had thought of is a line from a poem by Hafiz, the 14th c Sufi master:
Our Destiny Is To Turn Into Light.
Here's the poem:
Faithful Lover
The moon came to me last night
With a sweet question.
She said,
"The sun has been my faithful lover
For millions of years.
Whenever I offer my body to him
Brilliant light pours from his heart.
Thousands then notice my happiness
And delight in pointing
Towards my beauty.
Hafiz,
Is it true that our destiny
Is to turn into Light
itself?"
Hafiz, The Gift, trans. Daniel Ladinsky (Toronto: Penguin, 1999), p.159.
While my poem is about light, it's really about roots, and works off Nancy Otto's lines (she's an artist who creates small, stunning glass sculptures where she explores our inner consciousnesses, our inner lives, the deep channels and underground ways that we connect).
Adoni and Aholi are both gods of nature: one ancient Phoenician; the other, ruler of the Pikya clan of Native Americans. Nature is usually imaged as a woman, but sometimes as a man - the dying & resurrected god.
Also I'm currently not just crazy about Hafiz, but also Pablo Neruda, his love poems, and Juan O'Neill's translation of Macchu Picchu.
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