Elegy for Diana



The dirge of bells is silent.
It is too soon to tell if the ravens have left the tower.
It is too late for the lilies to bloom;
A meteor of brilliant blaze
Has passed the silence of this place
And left a trail of quiet stars,
Unknown.

In Arthur's day life was short and hard.
Phantoms stole the sleeping children
& swords took heroes in their prime.
The legend himself rode on the waves to Avalon
Too soon for England's healing.

They say he will come again.
They say Merlin sleeps a thousand years,
Waiting.

We are all waiting now.
What vague dream is it that stirs in us genetic memory
Of what was,
Of what may yet be
Under the ancient stars.

You were a star
Of ancient echoes and modern sensibilities.
All that was old became transformed in the light of your eyes.
You rode a wave of love into this light,
And were born out of the water,
A shy pearl.

Yet that cracked shell hid the bow of your soul
The supple branch of your ardent heart,
A gift from She Who
Sought the stag in the woods under the stark Moon
And discovered her destiny
Alone.

Diana of the Hunt
and the Hunted
One within this world that has forgotten its mythology
Until now.

We need the gods
In order to destroy them.
We are anxious about what we could be,
What we are not.

So we reinvent Diana
And sling our arrows to the Huntress
Until she falls
A roebuck felled in a circle of ancient trees
A sacrifice
For our own inadequacy.

And we mourn the greatness within ourselves
We have silenced.

The wordless priestesses will come to take her home to Avalon,
A new legend,
Arthur's legacy.
What spark of human divinity may yet fly out unchecked from our needy hearts?
We are beginning to remember to want to love.
We are beginning to remember we want the goodness.
We are beginning to remember our own history.
We are beginning to remember how to sing.
We are beginning to remember our hearts are large.
We are beginning to remember how to feel.
We are beginning to remember our own divinity.

We must remember to look into each others' eyes.
We must not forget the history in our bones.
We must know that Arthur will rise again.

Let the tears become a river of great hope.
Let the river become a merging.
Let the merging remind us of each other.
Let each of us take up this torch
And light the way
To the future of humankind.

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Copyright Ginger-lyn Summer