Hymn to the Goddess, Suburbia

11 Aug 2010

“Why show me this, if I am past all hope?—Ebenezer Scrooge

Just as the watcher in the night,
Upon the verge of sea and sand,
Looks up to see a glittering ship,
Set down by chance or holy hand,

So I, at edge of road and lawn,
One humid night in deep July,
Hear, carried over hardened waves of
Darkened parking lots, a cry.

And there, just past the High School, there,
A soccer game in dark unfurls,
Like flock of starlings, sentient smoke,
The light, the cries, and – Ah! – the girls!

A whirlwind of connected souls,
The daughters of Diana run,
Fitful, flitting school of life,
By distance and by dark made One.

Then, from the vastness of the sky,
A single Being fills the night,
And cradles me in hands of love,
And flares up briefly in my sight.

She has come. Reason fails.
Language, context, logic lie
Like glowing ashes, feebly warm,
That shimmer briefly, hiss, and die.

All mundane knowledge comes from this:
Sharp flecks of sense that we can name.
And all that liveth scattered is,
And I a spark, but Thou the flame.

Alone again, I drift through light
from flick’ring screens and passing cars,
Whilst She, ablaze in holy dark,
Ascends, and runs among the stars.

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3 Responses to “Hymn to the Goddess, Suburbia”

  1. mimi Says:

    Gorgeous.


  2. Poem has rhythm and beat and intonations and reads like Longfellow.PS That’s a compliment.


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