Forgive Poem by elysabeth faslund
Forgive
Druid mists, grey man fog...
Gnarled hands on limbs
Sanctifying the legends
Yet believed, as I drive
Through those shrouds of
Druid mists and grey man fog...
Sanctifying legends
In my own time...
This place of forgetfulness.
The mistletoe and oak...
Wicker and fire
Masking screams in
Druid mists...
Hearing them as I drive...
I stop awhile
On the side of the highway.
I walk past the thistle, and
In stooping, pick a golden.
Meadow rose.
I caress it's petals.
As a priestess
I cast it back into Time...
Past the bleeding castles,
Past Viking ships,
To wicker and flame...
To soothe.
I love the beauty of the words and images, the mystic atmosphere, the powerful repetitions.
It took a few reads before I could open the door and wonder how many hands it took, and over how many years, before this painting took form, and presented itself to me. It is an experience, and I'll echo our friends word of commentary 'fascinating'! .
Facinating employment of imagery, which you achieve so ostensibly unlabouringly. Like the language here, which complimets your theme very well.... FjR
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/26/2024 1:51:46 AM # 1.0.0.1119
This is a soft piece, like the fog you evoke so subtly - like the horrors you hint at so unobtrusively - like the forgiveness you offer so humbly with your rose petal ritual. Beautifully composed. love, Allie xxxx