Snow Garden
[ poem by Maximilian G. Wolf ]
— — — — — — — — — — — — -
I stepped into the dark corridor, and by an accidental touch of kindness,
I entered into the haunted tower of time,
like a sonata full of hope born
and dreams of kisses by the river.
A hug that conquers the bastion of inadequacy
and destroys the silk defense lies.
A book emerged from under a stone,
was read in the bed,
and melted into the mist of some new sighs.
At the bottom of the well, I saw eyes
what are like a spilled handful of pearls.
*
From the bud of the name of the great
a golden-haired princess comes out and hugs me;
while racing across dry, creaking snow
from the Paris streets
and the blue book pages
smiling boy with a snowball
hits a chandelier full of candles
and pieces of light in all directions fly
like a wasted youth.
*
I wander around the world in search for a soul
in the dark and blind with despair.
Snow is everywhere
and downhill takes me down
to the frozen lake.
I can see my hands trapped
on the other side of the thin
ice cover.
I’m frozen like a stone pillar,
while only my live eyes cry.
From my tears
the seagull makes hope necklaces
to guard against all evil
names pronounced.
*
I drink wine from the birch tree,
putting presents on the lower branches
of silver and amethyst.
Cloak of the Great Sorrow
which covers my back and shoulders
I came to leave it
there, in the corner of the garden
where are the thick willows planted.
*
Under the giant Tree in a blizzard
I found a beautiful corner for meditation;
I untied the ponytail
cut off from me long ago by the demon,
sprinkled myself with snow,
and with the icy grains of remaining joy.
My hands are at the end, bare and empty.
*
With the inner eye, I hear the chorus of trees,
where the ancestral oak commands the willow
to pass through my nostrils
and create the Tree of life
with better woven
by watering sapling
with the red juice of my body.
Ready, I surrender
and I go into the ice bluish-whiteness
hugging me silently.
Finally, my peace comes
in the company of people
that were once like us
and we will all become like them
just like me now.
— — -
Kindly read the lovely poem about Collecting Raindrops by LC Lynch
✍ — Published by Warren Brown, at Dancing Elephant Press. Click here for submission guidelines.
