i've spent the last five days house sitting at my Mother's home in rural virginia, winding down after an incredible week at spiralheart's witchcamp. i made a strong connection with a lady there who i've been lucky enough to chat with since leaving camp, and our conversations have led down winding roads. in sharing music, we stumble onto poetry. and so, as an exploration of our recent connection and some of the work that was done at camp, here is my first try at a form of poetry called the sestina.
who shall follow my red deer,
that hind who wanders gently into dark?
who to stalk her graceful stretch of leg now
that darkness folds its cloak about the trees,
now that balance sleeps on some horizon
far from where we tread, soft on hunting feet?
how to follow on such feet,
the shifting hooves of grace appointed deer?
how might i step soft when far horizon
shifts and steals that light, leaves me drinking dark
and deadly air, thick with fear in these trees
that cradle all i've hidden up til now?
hold the night, drink it in now
that you've let those fears fly on winged feet,
let the balance slip. trust it to the trees.
plunge into the black, with beloved deer
just beyond each step of shivering dark
where waits familiar golden horizon.
set free of that horizon
i bound as yet another in woods now
ripe with shadow, hints of light setting dark
to dance with me as we run on fleet feet
and share the woods, the night with god-kissed deer
among this light'ning grove of ancient trees.
in this dawn washed grove of trees
let go the past, embrace the horizon
that burns inside, as does the prancing deer
whom i have blessed so keenly. even now
she wanders without fear on shifting feet
and sets her soul at ease amid the dark.
though welcome now, i see dark
fade into the calm glow of morning trees,
drinking sunrise fresh on dew covered feet
and off to sleep til the next horizon
calls for its gentle edge of twilight. now
i run in grace alongside your red deer.
my dark and light horizon
shelters within trees who may whisper, now,
of shifting hooves and feet on hela's deer.
who shall follow my red deer,
that hind who wanders gently into dark?
who to stalk her graceful stretch of leg now
that darkness folds its cloak about the trees,
now that balance sleeps on some horizon
far from where we tread, soft on hunting feet?
how to follow on such feet,
the shifting hooves of grace appointed deer?
how might i step soft when far horizon
shifts and steals that light, leaves me drinking dark
and deadly air, thick with fear in these trees
that cradle all i've hidden up til now?
hold the night, drink it in now
that you've let those fears fly on winged feet,
let the balance slip. trust it to the trees.
plunge into the black, with beloved deer
just beyond each step of shivering dark
where waits familiar golden horizon.
set free of that horizon
i bound as yet another in woods now
ripe with shadow, hints of light setting dark
to dance with me as we run on fleet feet
and share the woods, the night with god-kissed deer
among this light'ning grove of ancient trees.
in this dawn washed grove of trees
let go the past, embrace the horizon
that burns inside, as does the prancing deer
whom i have blessed so keenly. even now
she wanders without fear on shifting feet
and sets her soul at ease amid the dark.
though welcome now, i see dark
fade into the calm glow of morning trees,
drinking sunrise fresh on dew covered feet
and off to sleep til the next horizon
calls for its gentle edge of twilight. now
i run in grace alongside your red deer.
my dark and light horizon
shelters within trees who may whisper, now,
of shifting hooves and feet on hela's deer.
Comments
Te-Di Yona