We should brighten up,
move forward, give up
what’s dead and past
except what’s dead isn’t past,
their stories like buried stars
within the darkened earth.
When we dig that ground
up come vampires, saints,
martyrs and their killers
as we unravel their knots,
sort their tangled skeins into smooth threads
to weave our coats for the winters to come
while stars beneath the earth
shine on in silent glory.
Yes. Now that I’ve developed the ability to “unravel their knots,
sort their tangled skeins into smooth threads”, I’ve begun what’s known as “psychological autopsies” of vampires and the dark deep ground of my past. With intent to seek understanding, I follow threads, reveal patterns, and release myself from hidden subtlety of their control. The radiant energies of the Earth illuminate while lifting darkness into the light of the Sun. They come together in me in what is known as forgiveness.
Your exquisite poem lets me see the struggles of others we harbor, while sent afloat into the stars beneath the earth .. their peace is known. Let them rest in our own heart now .. and then.
Yes, I’m deep in the process of DOING exactly what you speak of in this brilliant expression… takes a sharp shovel and lots of guts. No other way to turn this musty “dead earth” into fertile ground once again, at last ready to grow forgiveness.
Beautifully crafted as always, and perfectly timed.
For me your prophecy is what is critical in your far sight: “to weave our coats for the winter to come.” All the “work” your poem suggests that we must do within ourselves is to prepare for the inevitable winter that is coming. Sadly, as Michael Meade proclaims that there must be the chaos to release the creative genius that is in each of us. Thank you for continuing to look both to the horizon and inward to ourselves and the earth and report to us.
Really touching……hit a lot of nerves and sent me into a deep reflection…kinda like an old movie 🙂
Layer after layer of vampires and I give thanks for all of them coming up, presenting themselves….and I also give thanks for the stars…
Excerpt from Irish culture novel, Himself by Jess Kidd.
“It is a truth universally UN-acknowledged that when the dead are trying to remember something, the living are trying harder to forget it!”
So well-put, Don. I remember your father saying to me, “Never look back”. (This was at Sunrise after I had left my marriage.) But as you express in your poem, everything that has transpired in our lives is here present, so let us weave from it all smooth threads for new raiment!