Reflection, Odilon Redon

Urged to stopβ€”
or still, enough to smell the pink-tipped day
as the fast, frantic fiddle plays,
and purple breath-clouds cross the sky,

to blossom in the in-between with shadowed light,
and in this between, or in the after, you ask

why? The hot-headed goddess sits above
languidly shining bright-beamed, life seeming to
swim and sail through death-churned water—

elaborate on if, she says.

And you gaze at blue, recall the taste of honeyed-spring,
and puppy gambols, the scent of summer rain,

the sound of it falling, you falling
deep within, slowing to hear the whispers
of wind and stars, the voices of loved ones,
remembering your dreams.

My poem from the Oracle. I thought I’d try first for a cadralor or attempt another fragment poem, but my mind (or she) insists on making connections.

42 thoughts on “Meditation

  1. So magical! “elaborate on if”–just those three words contain worlds.
    We both had images of the evening sky and falling into the night. Goddesses, birdlings…the in between. (K)

  2. This is strange (when isn’t it?) but you know I said I had two cadralore? The other one has ‘churned’ in it and it’s full of blue too.
    We both had that pink dawn light, I had Brigid, and you had the hot-headed goddess. The image I almost used was a Rossetti painting that I associate with Brigid and it’s called Fiammetta!
    I do like that death-churned water!

    • So. . .in the weird things that I contemplate, this is actually something I’ve thought about. The moon is definitely female. (I said this the other night, and older child agreed.) But I’ve been thinking about the sun and can’t decide, so I’ve determined the sun is actually non-binary or two-spirited, if you prefer. (But goddess fit the poem.)
      You’re probably sorry you mentioned it. 🀣🀣

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