June 26, 2010

Darah’s Baptismal Sky (a poem)

Filed under: Poetry — Russ @ 2:54 am
As Darah sits at the window,
Her eyes scan dreamward,
Scanning the sky for a space which pleads for an image.
She searches through her hours,
For the recollective moment which redeems her faith
And offers a glimpse.
We only paint our own portraits,
Each moment just a subtle stroke,
Just a tangent in the tinge.
What does she hope for, what does she dream?
Which is the image she yearns to see
When she regards the cloudy sky?
Does she dream of flying
In revelatory invisible suns,
Looping them into her hair in braided halos,
Sparking glints of her own light,
Because she despairs of an afternoon’s image?
Does she fantasize Michelangelo’s sinews
To wield the chisel of freedom,
To liberate the latent form?
We can only read ourselves in anything,
And any word is lost in translation.
I can only dream of a moment felt, not spoken.
Our expressions betray and limit us,
But that’s all we have.
So Darah will paint again,
And I try to dream of what she dreams,
I dream each painting a baptism of sight,
Willed by hope onto the world’s bleak ceiling,
Baptized in the gentle bath of her soul.
I’ve also seen the gray canvas in the sky
And I’ve wondered, what shall I see there?
What dream do I wish to paint?
Darah dreams, as she ponders her new dawn,
And her sky is only her own,
Beholden only to her dreams.
Darah wants to paint the sky with her dreams,
And her dreams are just ready to fly,
Just now, as her new sun rises.
She’s still at the window,
And she still sees gray,
But that’s only her canvas,
Waiting to receive her eternal voice,
Dreaming of speaking her dreams.


  1. I get a sense of hope in reading this, and I really need to hope right now, Russ.

    Comment by Bloodgroove — June 29, 2010 @ 9:17 pm

    • I’m glad I could help with that, JD.

      Comment by Russ — June 30, 2010 @ 1:25 am

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