I write this in the hope that he will come back and see it soon. I'm not sure if it's better or worse than the first I wrote, though I may well mean it more. Iaurdagnire is a good muse, though.
The Battle for Spring
Struggle against the sea,
that howling wolf
who drives you from beginning to end.
Those teeth are deadly sharp!
That howling wolf
who bears the scent of salt and flowers --
those teeth are deadly sharp,
and drive your blood against your flesh.
Who bears the scent of salt and flowers?
Your body blends into the deep blue sea,
it's driven your blood against its flesh,
and the froth is like your underbelly.
Your body blends into the deep blue sea --
is that you, bobbing among the waves?
The froth is like your underbelly,
The fog so blinding white.
Is that you, bobbing among the waves?
Is it a trick of the light?
The fog is so blinding white,
you could already be lost.
Is it a trick of the light?
No, I believe in the strength of your breath.
You could already be lost --
I can only pray it isn't so.
I believe in the strength of your breath
that carries you from beginning to end.
I can only pray it is so --
Struggle against the sea!
((This is a Seed's Poetry corner response to Dag's story
Spring II. Thunderclap. If you want to read more of Seed's poetry, the index (including the link to the poem he mentioned at the top) is
here.. ))
