Lamia Poem by Gert Strydom

If science can make
all magic things just trivial
and give explanations to all,
cause the rainbow
to unfold as a prism,
what are the images then
still lying in my unconscious soul?

Does doom and destiny
write their own lines
and are there still mysteries
lying somewhere
at the edges of reason,
lurking and waiting
for the right time, moment
and circumstance to appear

to step from shade
into the clear
and could the “tender-personed Lamia”
again be here?


*


One night I have a dream
that seems real
and it is during
the middle ages

of a well built man
swimming a strong river
sometimes trice a day

to get to his flock
on the other side
where fields of grass
is in a great glen.

He swims back
to chop some wood
in a forest
and his muscles bulge
while he swings the axe.

Sometimes while swimming
he glimpses a long shadow following,
but always at the edge
of his perception
as if something is there
but not daring
to come too near.

Slowly but surely
a house and barn
is taking shape
while his hammer
sounds deep into the night
and he works on
in the moonlight.

Sometimes when at night
he swims the surging river
there is movement
in the transparency
that makes the water
swirl and pull

and he imagines
a snake, crocodile
or water monitor
moving behind him.

He bites on a long knife
to have it ready
if need would be,
but he never is afraid

and one night
something is uncoiling,
as black as his cat
with the same green loving eyes
and spots of dark blue,
crimson, green and violet
and what it is
he cannot grasp.

Something between a snake
and water monitor
studies him for some time
and when he reaches
for the hilt of the knife

a sweet female voice
is like a song
in his head
with eyes expanding
as if reaching in.

A tail brushes against him
almost tenderly
and he comprehends each word
that she is saying
although it is somewhat sibilant.

“I have been watching you
for some time
and know that you
are a good man,
and to me you are
very attractive.”

When he answers
the knife falls from his mouth
gleaming as it goes
to the riverbed.

“You are beautiful
what ever you are,
but surely dangerous.”

He is tired
and swims to the bank
where he takes a grip
on a fallen tree
and the creature
follows him.

He can understand her better
through the hissing:
“I mean you no harm,
but you must trust me.
I have come to love you.”

“But we hardly know
each other and you’re different…”

But she is so close
that he have lost his words
and he doesn’t feel danger
and has compassion for her.

“Kiss me, ” the creature sighs
and thinking that it could hardly
be more dangerous
than being right next to her,

he closes his eyes
and kisses her
on the beak
between the pearly
humanlike teeth.

The storm that was brewing
suddenly brakes loose
and he hears a great lighting bolt
striking nearby.

When he open his eyes
he is looking
at the most beautiful
naked young woman
with long black hair
hanging to her middle
and she has a radiant smile.

[Reference: Lamia by John Keats.]