Ophelia Flies

Rating: 4.8

Through earthbound dreams her feet have traveled;
Along the planet’s surface, forced to crawl;
Or to struggle against the water or sink under it...
Until tonight, this different night,
To the shore she is called.

From Folly’s strand those feet lift up
On current not of water, but above it.
She is projected in astral travel across
The foaming surface that churns
A hopeful farewell beneath.

Milky sapphire luminosity shimmers
On her verdant scales, slick with sea mist,
As one by one they dropp to the
Hungrily lapping water tongues below;
Waves wanting what once was warden and wall.

Her blue bathed journey on a wondrous wind
Propels her yearning soul past
A sweet performance in which
The moon dances upon the Mid-Atlantic Ridge
To entertain the quietly watching stars.

In peaceful passage it seems
Down and fine feathers form to fill
The places vacated by the emerald armor;
Soft comfort which belies
The new vital inner mettle.

Her destination, the fulfillment of her pilgrimage,
Lies in the depths of the dark smudge
On the eastern horizon,
Source of the rising sun,
Her heart’s home.

Silent silver flight finally
Carries her past the dark green isle,
Over the sacred shore, and
Low across the deeper green fields, and
Almost black trees.

Soon the city slides beneath;
Slumbering steeples and smokestacks,
Not so strange bedfellows;
But it’s the bulging Bullring
That tells her heart she’s close.

Not soaring now, lower, past the Gospel Oak,
Down into Gospel Farm Road
Slowing to find the place,
The beating of her heart slows, too,
Anticipating peace in her breast at last.

For a moment she hovers above his front garden
Outside the closed curtain of his open window,
Then slips through the casement
Above the blue sofa
To look down on him in his bed.

His upside down perfect face lights itself in the dark.
The pilgrim’s passage ending, she indulges her thirsty eyes
With long drafts of each of his features,
Tasting every one in its turn
Until sated to saturation:

The slope of his brows, eyelash fringed cheekbones,
The noble nose, the curve of his lip,
The corners of his mouth, the strength of his jaw line and chin;
Each of them begging to be known
Pleading to be touched.

Aligning her body to his,
She sinks into the nest beneath his arm,
Settling with her face in his side
Feet finding feet to snuggle,
Nose nuzzling ribs, a kiss;

Her arm across his hips,
His arm along her back,
Quest completed, promised peace,
To reach fulfillment
At last to sleep.

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