the thunder of
a small bird.

a poem grows shadows
and moonscapes,

the moon,
withered sapphires,
undone,
her open windows
a thread of bright
light.

i.


monet's passion written in
whispering tears.
the still lake smoulders
in ripples, all shadows and smoke.

a dragonfly presses the air
into whir, memories in my
pocket saddled to fire.


ii.


the air murmurs with death-shouts.

is this to sink, deep in a dungeon
of opulent blue

or to shimmer, iridescent
like a moon-lamp, empress
of ocean green and river blue
beyond the stilling light.


iii.


this is a bed of decadence
drowned moment of golden fire
in the sipped leaves that trumpet
to the clouds, that this is their day to
die.


iv.


water lily, white light of the pond
following the drowning dark,
flower of drifting quiet,
flower of dream.


v.


root treading past
the stillness of dusk,
utter existence,
daughter of the moon,
daughter of the silence.

Sapphire drops of moonlight bounced off her umbrella and a cool, smoky mist escaped her crimson lips every once and so often.There she stood alone, on a loud, bright and miserable winters’ night. Pensively gazing over the glistening city streets before her.

Echoes of light gleamed from the windows of bars and cafes. Reflections of lover’s kisses melted in a cold November rain. Live music, laughter, conversation! O what a cheerful sight is the city at night, for all but one this evening.

Such striking acts of delight and love did nothing but depress her.

This loner longs to stand with the pack and live her life, instead of merely existing. She is the Steppenwolf of her time. Unwanted and alone. And much like the original Steppenwolf, she gives and cares for others very much like family. Alas, despite her best efforts, she could never fit in.

And perhaps, never will.

Spanish

Fuera, la noche en veste de tragedia solloza
Como una enorme viuda pegada a mis cristales.

  Mi cuarto:…
Por un bello milagro de la luz y del fuego
Mi cuarto es una gruta de oro y gemas raras:
Tiene un musgo tan suave, tan hondo de tapices,
Y es tan vívida y cálida, tan dulce que me creo
Dentro de un corazón…

    Mi lecho que está en blanco es blanco y vaporoso
Como flor de inocencia,
Como espuma de vicio!
  Esta noche hace insomnio;
Hay noches negras, negras, que llevan en la frente
Una rosa de sol…
En estas noches negras y claras no se duerme.

  Y yo te amo, Invierno!
Yo te imagino viejo,
Yo te imagino sabio,
Con un divino cuerpo de marmól palpitante
Que arrastra como un manto regio el peso del Tiempo…
Invierno, yo te amo y soy la primavera…
Yo sonroso, tú nievas:
Tú porque todo sabes,
Yo porque todo sueño…

    …Amémonos por eso!…
    Sobre mi lecho en blanco,
Tan blanco y vaporoso como flor de inocencia,
Como espuma de vicio,
Invierno, Invierno, Invierno,
Caigamos en un ramo de rosas y de lirios!





              English


    Outside the night, dressed in tragedy, sighs
Like an enormous widow fastened to my windowpane.

    My room…
By a wondrous miracle of light and fire
My room is a grotto of gold and precious gems:
With a moss so smooth, so deep its tapestries,
And it is vivid and hot, so sweet I believe
I am inside a heart…

    My bed there in white, is white and vaporous
Like a flower of innocence.
Like the froth of vice!
    This night brings insomnia;
There are black nights, black, which bring forth
One rose of sun…
On these black and clear nights I do not sleep.

    And I love you, Winter!
I imagine you are old,
I imagine you are wise,
With a divine body of beating marble
Which drags the weight of Time like a regal cloak…

Winter, I love you and I am the spring…
I blush, you snow:
Because you know it all,
Because I dream it all…

    We love each other like this!…
    On my bed all in white,
So white and vaporous like the flower of innocence,
Like the froth of vice,
Winter, Winter, Winter,
We fall in a cluster of roses and lilies!

You were restless
it’s the nights the world
made you nervous-
where stars have exploded
within you
but now fade out-
it’s these nights which
agitated you the most.

You start running circles
around the moon
chasing light years
trying to get to tomorrow
ahead of schedule
contained and prepared for
the unknown terrifying
you so much.

“Put fairy lights around
your neck, and lets go
outside," I declare,
"and pretend you’re a star
so I can chase you
around the garden,
until you fill yourself
with fearless light
reminding you
where one star burns out
another one shines.”

Your eyes shimmer
in the moonlight
they pay allegiance
to the night.

“See that there,” I point.

"A thousand stars..."

I smile; "A thousand stars...
It’s the promise you
made to the Universe,”

“To never burn out,” you say

I smile, “Yes! To never burn out.”                                

© Sia Jane