‘Wings beating about the room…’

25th March, Lady’s Day – The Feast of the Annunciation

 
 
The Mother Of God
 
The threefold terror of love; a fallen flare
Through the hollow of an ear;
Wings beating about the room;
The terror of all terrors that I bore
The Heavens in my womb.

Had I not found content among the shows
Every common woman knows,
Chimney corner, garden walk,
Or rocky cistern where we tread the clothes
And gather all the talk?

What is this flesh I purchased with my pains,
This fallen star my milk sustains,
This love that makes my heart’s blood stop
Or strikes a Sudden chill into my bones
And bids my hair stand up?

 Perhaps

in the exaggerated grace
of his weight
settling,

the wings
raised, held in
strike-or-embrace
position,

I recognized
something more
than swan, I can’t say.

There was just
this barely defined
shoulder, whose feathers
came away in my hands,

and the bit of world
left beyond it, coming down

to the heat-crippled field,

ravens the precise color of
sorrow in good light, neither
black nor blue, like fallen
stitches upon it,

and the hour forever,
it seemed, half-stepping
its way elsewhere–

then
everything, I
remember, began
happening more quickly.

[Carl Phillips] 

beyonce-grammy-goddess

As she whirls

Into the circle of grief

For her fleeting childhood

Passed like the blood

Of her first menses

Quick and painful

Name her

[For audio of the poet reading the whole poem please click the link below
 Trust me, it’s worth it!]
 

Published by The Delightful Mrs P

Witch, Writer, Card Slinger, Chocolate Lover, Tea Drinker, Cake Eater & Mystic. A Northern Lass, a Walker between and betwixt. I'll talk to Anyone, dead or alive.

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