Soulful Fires
The Sun stood still and suddenly turned around —reborn, refreshed yet self-absorbed like a sleepy infant —the days fell silent after winter solstice – damp like knitting wool knotted on the needles, left by the window during a long night of snowfall—solstice playing and rejoicing with the earth —quenching fiery autumn’s palette in winter’s dreary tones
Tea stains on the rim of my emptied cup gleaming in dusky sunlight – only a brief flutter in the garden, of robins settling for another long winter night – hardly any soul trudging the alleys of the town – just hissing of kettle and occasional purr of window hinges ravaged by icy wind — pages of the book I’m reading go rampant with a forceful gush of sleet — blurred out in flickering candlelight for dreamy overtures –
moon with frozen rays mounts the sky – are galaxies and heavens aware of season’s transition in northern hemisphere of this tiny earth, do the cosmic dust waver by tilts, twirls and even rotation of planets — pines might know what the winter holds for the almond blossoms – for colours of yet other blooms abound in gardens – for rainbow primroses of banks and verges – will thousands of wildflowers wink or die under long spells of dessicating darkness
Another dream blinks and soaks me —a pristine forest, green and lush – ruminating sheep’s snowballs —a soft trickle of winged seeds from a kalpavriksh* – the jungle’s majesty lit up with their benign energy — glowing with flowers spangled like scented fairy lights — Oh, those trees along the blue stream seem to be friends of oaks — a green conversation going on using some unknown script and undeciphered signs –
in the next long night the dream might relive – the winged seeds spraying sparks of elation, the bliss of their germination. If I could fetch one to my own soil, the sounds; voices pulsating the trees, surreal and physical in communication – maybe feelings of the mountains in wet landscapes of captivating memories– and integrity of nature to be earnestly respected by humankind
Let the darkness graze on crimson of dawn and scarlet of dusk, let the night scavenge on stubble of stale light – let clouds dissolve in purple panorama — let winds throng thinnest of chink in warp or weft of the moments — let the gauzy sunshine muffled in thickest of shrouds — since landmarks are lost in harshest haze —let the dreams spill all over, let the soulful fires ignite.
Era Garg December 2022
*According to Hindu mythology ‘Kalpavriksh’ is a divine tree abundant in medicinal properties.
Composed in response to the prose poem prompt “liminal landscapes” by Melissa Coffey. This was a prompt close to my heart. A poet owns a treasure chest of silky dreams. I could choose some yarn to weave this piece inspired by Melissa’s wonderful prompt. Please find the link below:
