A Poem for Elizabeth
Where inner space widens to outer
she creates her secret places.
They hold strong. She can visit and revisit.
One is a garden, where parts of her
take the forms of animals,
to show themselves more clearly to her.
Then there’s the boulder,
a private place of peace, which she reaches
eventually, after travel and striving.
A large, wise, gentle tiger called Pain
becomes fellow-traveller and teacher –
through all landscapes a faithful guide.
A sassy red tulip reveals itself
as hardy, feisty, in-your-face …
and it’s her face. It has her name.
Elizabeth is the name of great Queens
and of one legendary beauty
who, in her long life, suffered much pain.
And now it is hers. She steps into it,
claims it. Elizabeth doodles with artist’s pencils,
bringing into this world the shapes of dream.
Inspired by some stories of Elizabeth Crawford's.
What a remarkable poem. I'm going to re-read this one a number of times. I love the tiger called Pain. It's an amazing allegorical piece, like an Elizabethan tapestry. Wonderful. Thank you.
ReplyDeleteIt's a restatement of what was in the stories – on and below the surface. She loved it, and was surprised and moved by the last line.
Delete