Soldier
I am a soldier pledged to the sky, become
a sword in her blue pockets, my threadbare fatigues
a sword in her blue pockets, my threadbare fatigues
marked with the grit of worlds. I fight on
because she wears time so much better than I
and vaults the earth with her mother-colored mantle
unwavering, unchanged, uncommanded forever.
Tho Night has drawn his obsidian blade
and pierced me with his heartkiller spear, tho I
because she wears time so much better than I
and vaults the earth with her mother-colored mantle
unwavering, unchanged, uncommanded forever.
Tho Night has drawn his obsidian blade
and pierced me with his heartkiller spear, tho I
am older, diminished, my moondrops that pooled on
white grass all drunk in the sun's tarnished cup; tho
I howl my warcry unheard in the inkwell dark,
still the hole in my breast
is soft-closed with moss and silver straw
and silence that seeps out
from the green forest floor,
til dreams and signs pillow my head
and swim like sweet fish as pale as winter
through the tears on my war-stained cheeks.
I howl my warcry unheard in the inkwell dark,
still the hole in my breast
is soft-closed with moss and silver straw
and silence that seeps out
from the green forest floor,
til dreams and signs pillow my head
and swim like sweet fish as pale as winter
through the tears on my war-stained cheeks.
November 2024
posted for Word Garden Word List
Images: Portait of Maude Abrantes, 1907 ©Amadeo Modigliani Public Domain
Borage and Blue Sky, ©joyannjones
Wow, Joy. This is so lovely. Your closing stanza, especially, is gorgeous. Such fine writing. It is always so lovely to read you.
ReplyDeleteYour poem resonates deeply with its imagery of resilience and surrender, where even in the face of weariness and wounds, nature offers quiet solace.
ReplyDeleteWhat an epic an emotive poem - wonderful
ReplyDeleteThat opening stanza left me breathless. I especially liked the idea of the sky being "uncommanded." The second stanza was difficult for me to read, knowing that we are both war-weary and that the never-ending trumpets of cruelty and bullshit have torn us and left us weary and dispirited, or at least that's the case for me. Ah, then there is your final stanza, such a master-stroke of both rest and ruination, couched in the most natural and original terms. "Soft-closed with moss and silver straw"... wow.
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ReplyDelete"I am a soldier pledged to the sky ...." Wow! What an incredibly forceful, challenging opening! Especially in light of her end, pierced in breast and heart. Yet, yet. Her "warcry unheard" demands a hearing in the "green forest floor" that enfolds her, and us. Your words draw us into the pain of one "marked with the grit of worlds," Joy. Exquisitely done.
ReplyDeleteThe deeper message in this is piercing and lovely all at once Joy! This is one magnificent poem my friend! I feel the weariness and also the resolve. Your imagery is always just so wonderful!
ReplyDeleteThis is beautiful. I feel the fight, the weariness, the resolve to continue until there's no energy in one's body, spirit, and soul. There is no giving up in this poem. It pushes me to continue to fight, no matter how small I feel my soldiering might be.
ReplyDeleteI held my breath throughout. The turn from the middle to last stanza - the pivot from 'hole' to 'moss' - is so expertly drawn. ~
ReplyDeleteYour poem is deep, complex. The soldier battling yet able to find solace in nature's embrace. Oh if that were only so in war-scarred countries today. I love the almost meditative tone in the last stanza.
ReplyDelete“ I am a soldier pledged to the sky, become / a sword in her blue pockets” WOW. Terrific all the way through. “ I fight on / because she wears time so much better than I” is amazing. The sky, the world, our battle cry.
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