Palinode (salt, mask, descent)
Tracing the map to the swaying places, she rises
through the interior world, garnering peace by
syllable. Water, clouds and sand mark her ascent.
The expectation is return, renewal. My friend did not
awaken this morning, and tonight I praise her
passage with drink and song. Matter into spirit,
mountain into sky, redemption, freedom. We bathe in
light, reclaiming the liminal. Our tears evaporate,
leaving salt and untrod paths in our wake.
The paths in our wake delimit the future, but
everything falls. Which do we desire more, the grasp
or its release? That instant preceding fear defines a
yearning particular to its course, a cycle of regression
and progress: ancestors descend into human or
animal form, die, depart to the heavens, and return
anew. Distilled power, a bridge to the spirits, the
mask unshutters and conceals the conscious mind.
Opening my eyes, I release the sun.
I release the sun and observe the results. From sky
to soil, from above to below, to solidity. Spirit
acquires matter, disperses and regroups. Rain and
alluvion, flooded homes, the dark night of childish
laughter. Each to her own path, each to an end. Muting
the string, I touch the harmonic into the world, linking
civility to proportion, lowering dissonance. Everything
falls. Everything. From curve to angle, we resist and
rejoice. In this design parabola, she descends.
* * *
“Palinode (salt, mask descent)” is included in my recently released chapbook, I Have a Bird to Whistle (7 Palinodes), still available here at the pre-publication price of $7.50.
“Palinode (salt, mask, descent)” was first published in Otoliths in slightly different form.
Hi Robert… sorry I’ve not been as often as I want,
my days in hospital seem to be outnumbering
my times at my home environs
This poem has really awoken the base of my soul, and with your typical beautiful heartfelt lines, and these words resonated through my attuned skeleton
“The paths in our wake delimit the future, but
everything falls. Which do we desire more, the grasp
or its release?”
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Ivor! I’m so sorry that you’ve been ill. I hope that you’re on the mend for good, and done with hospitals for many years!
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This is a beautiful read on this Sunday morning… thank you!
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I’m so pleased this resonated for you. Thank you!
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I’m drawn (after multiple readings) to this: “Distilled power, a bridge to the spirits, the
mask unshutters and conceals the conscious mind.” Particularly drawn to the mask, to taking it off to unshutter consciousness … whose hand moves the mask … a beautiful puzzle.
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The masks seem to change, too.
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