reverently from a tarnished spoon into warmed tea, I feel
the ripples of glass reverberate against
and across my skin, up mountains, descending
valleys, through bracken. Almost like the wind,
humming through my hair and fingers,
my reflection augments the sound of my voice
as deeper I slip. Toes, thighs, waist. Submerging
the oldest song into an unknown catechism,
words blending with words immemorial. Chest,
neck, mouth. As the glass reaches my lips, I open
and partake, my reflection swirling
into the darkness of my own self, and the words come,
without compulsion from the deep: an echo
in the half-light. A hymn without refrain.
I love this.
ReplyDeleteThanks! I'd love to hear some thoughts/interpretations/feelings aroused when..., etc.
ReplyDeleteOkay, well, I'll tell you! I don't know if this is what you meant. But. As I was reading, I envisioned myself, swimming in the nude, and becoming one with nature. "I feel
ReplyDeletethe ripples of glass reverberate against
and across my skin, up mountains, descending
valleys, through bracken." It like the water, because it touched me, has become a part of the mountains, the valleys, the trees. We are made of dust, and, in this case, are becoming part of the dust again, in a sense. "Submerging the oldest song..." We become who we are meant to be, who we have always been, we are in tune with our ancient selves, the spirits we have always been, but forgotten to be because we are encased in a body. A body we misuse and don't always understand. A body we clothe and modify and grow to be ashamed up. But in the water, in the nude, our spirit, our body, and nature all become one, and we are able to transcend.
And that's what I think it's saying. How's that for an interpretation?
Great! You hit on some things that I had intended, some that are new to me. That's the greatest thing about interpretation! That's what poetry is for.
ReplyDelete