Tapestries

Stark white

his body cooling unseen

the breath barely visible

a rise and fall, slow.

Stark black

her body tightening so keen

her fear visible in clenched hands

a pacing back and forth, fast.

He was hanging by a thread

unknowing the long years had fled.

And so slowly, oh too quickly

he fell into graceful death

and wondrous mystery.

Atropos had her way, inevitable...

Snip.

The tears fell silver,

warming the room with soft sorrow and deepest love.

~*Cail*~
05/03/10

so much we have
yet never enough--
undimmed, we glisten rosy dew
unspent, we desire caresses familiar
from long ago, the evening past

we would delve deep into
locked secrets, forbidden passions
shifting dream to a moment
singularly real, perfectly realized

blood burns fiery flames, flamboyant
soul sets to the airy skies, splendiferous
the conflagration grand, utterly eloquent
the gift asked for and received
long awaited, long sought

oh darling, we did so ask it of Her
and she answered with treasures unmeasured

cherish close, arms entwined ever
touch soft, hearts infolded always

so much we have
yet never enough--
oh never enough...

~Cail
3/4/04

there's a ringing in my head
of cyclone thoughts whirling
swept along, spinning mote
I reach for surcease
long-armed travail for
one hold

just too much
overwhelm and overdone
(that Aquarian electricity!)
Uranus beating his sonic drum
long-wrought symphony
jumbled

no one appeared with
instructions for living
writing my own book
pencil chewed, paper wrinkled
cross out and re-write
mote of moon's rising
reaching out for
one chapter of joy

alright self
so you know and
acknowledge most rightly
the vortex of your vertices
faceted amethyst gleaming

back
back
to the still point
you foolish woman
one arm holding fast

I admit of no perfection
circling along in my cyclone
(takes note and pens the thought)
coming and going
I remain at my core
an eternal truth

so the whirl and twirl
till time of rest upon
some silent lakeshore
where I watch ripple words
wave thoughts fall to stillness

I take jumbled and set it
aside
another day, another chapter
surcease found
in a closed notebook
holding fast to the core.

~Cail
(c) 3/25/04

One day I walked on the shoreline
sun crowning my head
sand squishing between my toes
foaming swishes brushing my legs
my curious eyes
gathering all within
my ears listening
my skin feeling warm breezes

I knew my hair was tangled
knew I'd taste of salt if
you kissed me even lightly

I looked up
saw the sea kestrel
swoop and rise
soar off in search
of new prey

twas then I remembered
your lips
their absence
the desire lingering
a flicker taste of salt

escaped the moan
that swooped and rose
then fell crashing
wave of prey lost
to utmost sorrow

I looked down
caught seashell glimpses
in water sparkles
sun glinting hard
blinding my eyes

I knew I wept
knew I'd taste of salt if
you kissed me even lightly

I walked on slowly
heart prey to my
endless desire for you

the sun-crowned queen
in her kingdom upon the shores

twas then I recalled
once more
oh always one more time
the king
his absence
a wisp of one salty
kiss lingering....

~Cail
(c) 3/18/03

there's a little girl who plays down by Silver Brook
she has no friends to join her, but she pays no mind
down there by weeping willow and fallen log
she encounters mystical magic and the forest's denizens
fae of wispy wings and gnomes of darkened skin
unicorns with golden horns and elvenkind star-adorned
its something she's never mentioned to her parents
they just think she's odd and melancholy of mood
strange, fey child from out of the veiled mists

there's an old, wrinkled woman who visits now and then
she's bent over and her eyes shine from under frosted brows
her voice is hoarse and rough, yet surprisingly gentle
she knows all about the magic, little tricks and big spells
and the little girl holds her in simple awe, deepest love
they walk the shoreline of Silverbrook, talking, laughing
the forest folk join them off and on, capricious as they are
to the stumbling, stolid, serious ways of most human folk

one day, while hunkered down by the spotted toadstools
watching the fae fly, flitter and flutter most fancifully
the old woman speaks to the little girl, no twinkle now in her eye
"my time has come," she says, sighing, "the ending of one cycle."
the little girl nods solemn, feeling the falling swoop beginning
first echoes of sorrow a swooping fall in her heart
but such is the way of magic, the cycling inevitable and true
again the old woman speaks, "all of me is yours, my daughter."
settling upon the ground, her back to freshened spring boughs
she reaches one gnarled hand to touch the little girl's brow
closing her eyes to the willow branches above, one sigh escapes
and the forest quietens in uttermost honor, deepest love

there's a little girl who plays down by Silver Brook
she's really not a little girl anymore, though no one knows
not even her parents, who think she's just a fey child of the mists
when the unicorn bears her lightly, the elvenkind salute her grandly
the feisty fae bow and curtsy, wings a-flutter in dancing caper
the gnomes tend the land, but watch her closely, guardians noble
and the weeping willow cries no more, its happy sighs echo wide
if you look very closely into the little girl's emerald eyes
you will see the old woman looking back at you, saucy twinkling
inside you hear, mere murmuring wind, "the magic cannot die."

~Cail
(c) 3/30/04

Arched palm outward stretched, pleading quiet adamant,
The appeal of Aphrodite raptly trembled pristine eloquence,
Pried fully loose the gelid pernicious peridot eyebeam,
Superfluous passed on, consumed by love's generous entreaty,
Now gentle hyacinth blooms, petals spread on velvet wings,
As zephyr's tender cleansing sets keystone of true intent.

~Cail
(c) 4/1/04