Listen, and hear
Within the moon the silent flight
While stars ring like bells in a sky of snow.
Did you know
That the moon is hollow
And it chimes?
Now, past clouds of bitter rain,
Sullen in the jagged wind,
At a sharp bend in the long road,
Shines the light of butterfilies beyond the shards of the dark,
Of grace, as yet unimagined,
A hand of tree bark
Offers peace, abhaya mudra: “Fear
Not,” a message,
Seek and ye
Within the call
Of the star, cloaked in a misted shawl.
Soon, between the bones of yesteryear
Rise the rushing waters to the ridge
Of ending times.
There at the top of the narrow stair
Opens the rock-enchanted desert that will echo eternity,
Sing that the shadow
Has gone, though it is not that the shadow
Has gone, but just that the sun is real and the shadow not, after all,
The holy one, unknown, will walk again on the straight path,
Will hold the innocent deer high in his hand
(In the land
Of the gold dragon who gnashes
Her emerald jaw,
Extending her five-toed
There the brave one walks, placing the sun anew,
Engulfing the burning cities of the mind,
And – casting death at last behind,
Cleanses the earth of ashes.
Poem: © Sharon St Joan, 2017
Photo: © Dbpetersen | Dreamstime