The Wind and the Lily

[Deepwaters]

This is the poem that broke my block and let me write again, the first I've written in four years.

The Wind and the Lily
(pour Alizée avec reconnaissance)

The wind rose over the sea, a quiet wind at first,
Gently whipping sea-water into salt meringue,
And blessing dolphin snouts with laughing kisses.
But it gained breath with each bubble burst, each dolphin spout,
Until by the time it reached the island
It could break proud waves against the stubborn rocks
And bend wise old trees to kiss the earth.
Upon those rocks a lily grew, tasting the hard ground,
Laughing at the sun, bathing in sea spray
Given her by the wind's little cousins, who whispered:

"She comes for you, she comes to take you with her,
Far from these stones, to carry you away, root and blossom,
Into the storms of the air, and over the wide lands.
People will stand transfixed by your beauty, a flower on the wind,
And love you, open their mouths to kiss you, and so open them
To the wind, who will blow through their flesh into their souls,
Fanning embers into bonfires. In that mighty heat,
Will you not burn? Can you ride that wind and not be torn?"

But a flower cannot understand the wind's tongue,
Only listen in joy to the music of its voice.
And so the great wind found her eager for flight,
Took her from the rocks, and lifted her, root and blossom,
Into the storms of the air, across the sea to the wide lands.
There many people saw the lily flying
On that unseen, mighty wind, and knew
Only the flower, dancing in the air. Wondering, they said,
"How does this lily fly? What magic makes her soar?"
And, all unknowing, opened to the lily's love
And lost themselves to the wind, their souls kindling
In a fire of passion, not understood, nor controlled,
In love with the lily, ablaze in the wind.

I thought I was in a sheltered place,
Protected in my wizard's robe, braced by my staff of will.
The flecks of gray in my dark hair, the sadness
Hiding behind the laughter in my eyes, both say
I have seen many a lily come and go,
And am no longer dazzled or dismayed
By the beauty of a flower. But I forgot the wind,
And found myself no proof against its strength.
I felt that wind, and knew it for itself – It did not
Catch me unawares, and yet for naught
I set myself to stand, firm of foot,
And hold against the storm. Knowing, yet I opened
To the lily's love, and the wind took me,
Stepping with eyes open from the cliff
Just like the Fool. I am afire,
And cannot know how long I have to burn.

The lily, meanwhile, found at last the ground,
Rooted in new soil, sheltered for a time
From the wind, that waited while the lily grew.
But always the wind's voice whispered,
Calling, calling, and the lily knew that, soon or late,
She would give up the earth once more
To soar upon the storms of the air
And over the wide lands, opening new hearts
To the burning of the wind. For the lily is the wind's,
And the wind is the lily's, and the fierceness of her love,
Greedy with desire, shuns the nurturing earth,
Forbidding the lily a flower's life,
Until the wind has blown its course.