Myriads of Memories

this page contains Part five of

Myriads of Memories

by Amy Davis White

Here is a woman's story, from her beginning.

Part five

I cannot keep my cat.  I am incapable
Of curing her afflictions --- I must let her go.
Her absence will not render me implacable,
For after all, a cat is just a cat.
A substitute will suit me just as well, I know;
But part of me is her, and irreplaceable.
She suffers, and I weep, for cats should play and glow.
She's much too sick to stay, and that is that.

How sad to see two separated souls,
Consolidated once, now incomplete;
And on each side, no vict'ry --- just defeat.
Although --- before --- two halves made two un-wholes;
Wrestling with words, they could not mend their strife.
Small comprehension of each other's fears,
Too brief communication through the years,
Occluded love.  Perhaps another life
Will lend an opportunity to meld.
To share unshared compassion, to endure
An unenduring fervor, to immure
In loneliness, to live with love withheld,
Impart a great unhappiness.  I grieve
For them, yearn that they find reprieve.

There are so many things for which I mourn,
Some which have died, some which were never born.
I find myself neglecting to recall
A few things that have hurt me most of all.
Yet non-remembering won't always work.
Some painful memories forever lurk
Beneath the surface of emotion.  Can
Firm will, vast love of vowed devotion, ban
Secluded fears, and open doors to mirth,
Heal miseries, invite renascent birth?
In truth, in love, my soul will find calm rest,
And joy and peace no one will dare to test.
A goal within my grasp, within my sight,
I once again begin with level flight.

A fly of butter
(flick and flutter)
Flew into my window shutter.

Listen to the rain
Quietly proclaim
Calm unto the day,
Peace unto the fray.

Listen to the rain
Soothing all the pain,
Smoothing ruffled hair,
Washing down the air.

(song lyrics)

A gentle rain upon a sandy track;
The man-born nightlights stung the peaceful black;
A salmon glow amid a purpled grey:
The pale beginnings of a newborn day.

The thunderclouds came rolling in to shore,
Caressed the sands, and then rolled back for more.
The tufted sky-wisps grew more sharp and clear.
The seagulls followed with their harsh-toned cheer.

And, always changeless, came the changing crash:
A deep, dark thunder, and a merry splash,
Content to rhyme its rhythm its own way,
And following its own eternal lay.

There was a house upon the mountain-climb
As fair as soft, pale rain;  grey and forlorn;
As bright as sun's darts on a summer's morn;
As green as forest pathways;  patched with lime.
And near the house a rooted willow tree
Shed rustles on the air when zephyrs blew,
And raged with stronger billows, and shed dew
Upon wild violets sprung up at its knee,
When morning passed her quiet on to day.
When evening's sun shone through the tall-trunked pines
The house turned golden, and the ivy's vines
Bent toward the light as if they longed to pray.
The swallows nested in the crannied walls
And thought them fit for any king's grand halls.

The peace, the quiet of the early morn
Is interrupted solely by the birds
Whose solos chorus peacefully --- no words,
Just music's rapture as the day is born.

Suspended softly from the Pleiades,
Diana's basket dips beyond the trees;
It gathers myriads of memories
To be translated into melodies.

Autumnal

Contentment lies beneath the leaves
Of summer's sweet enchanted smiling trees,
But bliss belongs with autumn's weaves
Of golden russets melded with the breeze.
And summer's moon is cool and clear,
Majestic'ly enthroned in crystal flight;
While autumn's orb becomes a mere,
A mellow mystery in ebonite.
Though summer warms my outward form,
Delights me with its lacy greenery,
The autumn keeps my spirit warm
And makes me meditate the schemery.

Come back to life and haunt the stream
Of life's new beauty and her dream.
Contentment flows beyond the vales.
Be gentle with the opened dales
And quietly accept the views,
Absorbing light to heal the bruise.
For only he who knows can win,
And only he who grows within.

Pursued by dragons --- sickeningly green
And dreary grey, eyes dully orange aglow---
Intent upon my mind (insanely so),
I scamper madly to become unseen,
And rush to rooms six floors above the ground
Through endless corridors.  I find a nook
That promises asylum.  As I look
Into the closet, scufflings resound.
Quick panic chokes me!  I retreat inside,
Only to realize they can smell fear!
Yet just as all seems lost, who should appear
But one to help open the casement wide
And shove the dragons out.  They plummet, crash,
Then disappear in smoke, and leave no ash.

(a dream)

One day a dragon settled on the wall
And no one noticed --- least of all the king.
It quickly commandeered the royal wing,
Bound up the king, and made the queen its thrall.
Persuaded that the beast would soon depart,
The queen submitted patiently, but schemed
To oust it from the realm.  Too soon, it seemed
Tenaciously entrenched --- she plied her art...
A magick incantation was begun:
The dragon screamed in pain, unbound the king,
Unlatched the casement, suddenly took wing,
Careened in shock, and flew into the sun!
The realm's secure once more:  the guards are set ---
No dragon can approach the parapet.

(here endeth the text)

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