A GOTHIC TALE (Dream-Based Prose Poem)
The Three of Swords, Rider/Waite/Smith Tarot Deck
A GOTHIC TALE
(dreamed 4/7/00)
I.
The family of dark ones seduces
with whispers and tortured logic
all those whom they envy or desire.
But in the end, the empath
defeats herself with self-doubt,
and accepts the dark heart
of this unkind kindred as her own.
Marrying into their lost family,
she grows great with child,
and so too, with magical powers.
Power that all but eclipses her empathy,
the gift with which she was born,
and for which the dark ones
hunted her down.
II.
Outside ancient castle ruins,
members of the empath's true family
anxiously await her visit,
which they have managed at last
with well-placed bribes and subtle spells.
Beneath the barest slice of moon,
one paces trailing shadows and dust,
another gathers wild herbs and flowers
with which to greet her, and yet another
stands alert beside a massive grey steed,
silently beseeching The Deities
that there yet be time to rescue her
from the lost ones.
III.
Our empath arrives in a flash of magic.
How beautiful she is!
An ebon-haired goddess in the envious darkness,
accompanied by six false sisters
in their limp pale gowns.
Six deaf sisters who cannot hear
even the clamor they make
as they screech and flap hungrily
around her, bloodless magpies
drawn by her glamour.
Our empath raises one hand
in abrupt dismissal
and the six false sisters disappear.
Such power! If only it could be
turned to healing her heart!
Our own hearts are leavened
with hope as she smiles at us,
the hand of dismissal resting at her side.
“I have now what I did not know
I wanted,” she says.
She cups her other hand
over the full moon of her belly
and looks tenderly down.
Sharp hope courses through us.
When those eyes we have so missed
are raised to ours again,
what decision will we see there.
Will she leave with us,
will she take that wild ride down the rivers
of our shared blood, back to her own heart?
Or will she stay?
* * * *
A GOTHIC TALE
(dreamed 4/7/00)
I.
The family of dark ones seduces
with whispers and tortured logic
all those whom they envy or desire.
But in the end, the empath
defeats herself with self-doubt,
and accepts the dark heart
of this unkind kindred as her own.
Marrying into their lost family,
she grows great with child,
and so too, with magical powers.
Power that all but eclipses her empathy,
the gift with which she was born,
and for which the dark ones
hunted her down.
II.
Outside ancient castle ruins,
members of the empath's true family
anxiously await her visit,
which they have managed at last
with well-placed bribes and subtle spells.
Beneath the barest slice of moon,
one paces trailing shadows and dust,
another gathers wild herbs and flowers
with which to greet her, and yet another
stands alert beside a massive grey steed,
silently beseeching The Deities
that there yet be time to rescue her
from the lost ones.
III.
Our empath arrives in a flash of magic.
How beautiful she is!
An ebon-haired goddess in the envious darkness,
accompanied by six false sisters
in their limp pale gowns.
Six deaf sisters who cannot hear
even the clamor they make
as they screech and flap hungrily
around her, bloodless magpies
drawn by her glamour.
Our empath raises one hand
in abrupt dismissal
and the six false sisters disappear.
Such power! If only it could be
turned to healing her heart!
Our own hearts are leavened
with hope as she smiles at us,
the hand of dismissal resting at her side.
“I have now what I did not know
I wanted,” she says.
She cups her other hand
over the full moon of her belly
and looks tenderly down.
Sharp hope courses through us.
When those eyes we have so missed
are raised to ours again,
what decision will we see there.
Will she leave with us,
will she take that wild ride down the rivers
of our shared blood, back to her own heart?
Or will she stay?
* * * *
I'll excuse my dark mood as an episode of S.A.D. (seasonal affect disorder, which I haven't had in years). Or maybe just a hang-over from the Halloween "horrors." In any event, my answer tonight (and for days now) to the ending question above would be "she'll stay..." Who knows how I'll feel about it tomorrow?
Resource: Science Fiction Poetry Association, "poetry with some element of speculation -- usually science fiction, fantasy, or horror. Some folks include surrealism, some straight science. One thing is certain -- SFPAns know sf poetry when they see it."
‘til next time, keep dreaming,
Roswila
[aka: Patricia Kelly]
****If you wish to copy or use any of my writing or poems, please email me for permission (under “View my complete profile”)****My other blog: ROSWILA’S TAROT GALLERY & JOURNAL.
posted by Roswila @ 8:44 AM
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