i am the beloved's poet

[Guest guest]

i am the beloved’s poet

 

“I will hear what my beloved speaks.”

-Psalms 85.8

 

speak to me, my lady, for your child listens, speak to me

 

i first heard you as an infant hears what weary adults cannot

whispering to me as i would awake, calling to me as a turtledove

come fly with me, come play with me, come fly with me

 

because i was still a trusting infant sweetly trusting his heart

i lifted not frail arms but a flying pair of golden eagle wings to

come fly with you, come play with you, come fly with you

 

speak to me, my teacher, for your student listens, speak to me

 

i next heard you as vibrant child can hear what mean kids cannot

whispering to me in my play, calling to me as a soaring eagle

come soar with me, come fly higher with me, come soar with me

 

and because i still refused to listen to the jeering of friends

brittle mocking, jaded adults patronizingly say no, yet i went

soaring with you, flying higher with you, soaring with you

 

but then I heard the hot anger of others and I stopped listening

how quickly our frail spirits stop beating and bright things fade

come sail with me, come make love with me, come sail with me

 

return to me, my beloved, for your lover listens, return to me

 

i cried bitterly, i wailed, i mourned sorrowfully, i travailed

i sang to the mountains of the moon, i sang to the firey sun bird

but my words were broken wings because i could not hear you

my beloved, return to me, for your lover fails, return to me

 

and then, when i reached the end of the lonesome valley

when my river of sorrows had carved canyons in my cheeks

when the shine of love had faded to a dull, sickly glimmer

 

you returned to me, my beloved, in my dreams, you returned to me

 

 

i hear your voice once again as only a simple old fool can hear

whispering as i would fall into dream, calling to me as a blue heron

come fly with me, come make love to me, come fly with

 

singing to you, my beloved, singing to you, your lover returns to you

 

because i am aweary of the insane babbling of an insane world

i lift my frail arms to find they are the greywings of a hummingbird

lifting me to you, whispering on the wind, lifting me to you

 

your voice is sweeter than the hearalding of the boldly cheeky lark

your voice is more sensuous than the coy and dreamy nightengale

your voice is clearer than the transparent wings of a hummingbird

 

sing to me my beloved, sing to me, for your lover sings to you

my Beloved, i am your poet and i fly, sing and make love to you

only you, now and as it was in the beginning world without end

 

speak, my beloved, and I shall obey, for your lover listens and hears.

 

oh, my beloved readers, listen to me, hear me, listen to me

here, hear me now, for i am the beloved’s poet and she is mine.

 

 

Hail Maria, full of Grace, your Lord is with you….

 

mark christopher valentine

(march 19, 2001)