Her light


Once

I was a narrow backed bird

My wings were thimbles 

Dipped in vermillion

And male birds

With fat heads and thin legs

Betraying insubstantiality

Bowed and pecked, scratched in dirt

Of ardor and the absurd

Inflation being the territory of youth

Puff up, and let loose, shallow breath

I stood, cased in thought

Whorls of sea, hissing in my ears

Watching the pantomime of suitors

Without impression beyond wishing

To reveal innermost truth

To tell them, I am not the amaretto heart

My legs may part but the secret requires a key

The covet you have, is not for me

But a flickering illusion

Born on gold wheat and full fat milk

Where shyly school children sit hip to hip

Attempting to swallow the future, spoonful by spoonful

Wondering

Will I grow tall and willowy? Attract the grazing male?

Or stay suet and solid, in the finery of my own chainmail?

Not shifting with the glare

Nor melting beneath reporate

Feet grounded and solid

Like a much weathered tree will gain, higher purchase

Had I known then

The value of solidity

I’d have filled my belly 

Stretching out like a catamaran

Ready to receive weight of water

Cupped once, twice, thrice

Until beneath us, all else sinks

A stone among stones, building

Fortress against cruel turn of attraction and other auctions

So easily sold for naught

I would have been a yellow woman

Christened by yoke

Feathered in shellac pose

Hardened in ocre sun

Yet able to rise like morning bread

To embrace the less savage road

Where love is not dependant upon

Rude strings of shiny beeds and fleeting sum

Nor the appraisal of one, unable to understand

The warm value of the feminine

And not that cast off coat, threadbare in her insulation

He will soon see right through his own

Penchant for the fantastical

She is weathered, moored in confidence, for her walk

He may never glance her way

Though when he says he saw

The sunset and it was beautiful

He may indeed, be describing

Her light

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30 thoughts on “Her light

  1. Candice, this is exceptional in all its grace and expressiveness, but especially here:

    “The warm value of the feminine

    And not that cast off coat, threadbare in her insulation

    He will soon see right through his own

    Penchant for the fantastical

    She is weathered, moored in confidence, for her walk

    He may never glance her way

    Though when he says he saw

    The sunset and it was beautiful

    He may indeed, be describing

    Her light”

    The build-up to the ending and then the ending itself is just beautiful. I thought it was the most powerful part of the poem. Such a delightful read.

  2. Light with which we were born, light we hold forever in our heart of hearts, light we shine outwards daily, light we are and always shall be for no man nor entity can steal a sacred and inexhaustibe light such as we. 🙂 ❤ xoxoxoxoxo

  3. This poem describes perfectly the feelings all experience in those years where we struggle with the pain and often mind numbing decisions of the road of razors we call life.
    Great work my friend.

  4. It has made appearances in my writings for almost 30 years for example:
    Musicians and Minstrels
    They sing, those angels,
    bringing sunshine to the shadows
    where the mind hides
    when the road of razors
    has become to hard to travel
    and comfort is needed to
    carry the fight to the coming dawn.
    They sing and the joy comes,
    ecstasy at the sound so beautiful
    and true that it transports you
    to that magical place where
    no trouble touches, no sorrow roams
    and only bliss is allowed in.

    There are perhaps 10 others going back into the 80’s sometime.
    And thank you my so lovely soul-ed friend.

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