[Issue 2018.44]

‘Song of Wandering Agnes’, Christyl Rivers

Illustration © 2018 Jason Baltazar

With nothing but love for Yeats.

I went out into the real world
because a fire was in my heart
and cut my breath while clouds were pearled
and tipped and spilled the apple cart
and some bad apples were tumbling
and some moth-eaten dreams flickered out
I dropped my fear for heart with wing
and caught my dull, but silver doubt

When I and others had the floor
We blew, and brought the fire to flame
it burned within each breast, and bore
a warmth that recognized our claim
Each had been once, a glimmering girl
who bit into forbidden fruit
Then the moon became our pearl
and Earth herself soon followed suit
Though we are worn with wandering
through hollow promises and lands
We will find out where hope still sings
we’ll raise her voice and clasp her hands
and pluck till time and times are done
the silver apples of the moon
the golden apples of the sun

© 2018 Christyl Rivers

[Issue 2018.44]

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