The Maiden Monologues
by Jul Haven
I. Child in the Light (to the child)
Beside the flower groves, the ivy and the rocks,
a child rests, her spirit like a flowing spring,
dancing through the air on wind as hard as earth,
she laughs like fire, and welcome's mirthful lyre's sport,
and stares she to the pool and sees a youthful light.
II. Before the Singing River (to the maiden)
These girls, they stand like bloomed trees before the frost,
the wind, its fangs behind their painted, heavy faces,
but ride they go, while sounds of wolves and bears surround,
they dance, as if the ancient pools still held their shine,
and I, among them, flight and love, madness and doves.
III. A Sun Too Far (to the engaged)
Past the shadow, past the roads, is loved abandoned,
the carriage man coughs, the nobleman talks, the shadow
is ever too present. Alone, among the bramblewood,
the thorns of bees, the honey drunken by guileless seas,
the waiting of a thousand years, too short, too long.
IV. The Color of Night (to the widow)
You sit among the joyless tears, a hardened heart,
you dream of cities of glass, of storms of bright fire pounding,
but only the flowers can speak, but comfort none they bring.
"Death is but a transparent thing," they sing before they die,
and sitting alone, before the nightless moon, you sing.
V. Ever Present, My Horizon (to the aged)
We are the edged knives, the relics of horns and larks.
To dance, which is the highest art, we crown the night,
our shadows, which have passed into the black, have faded,
and wisdom in our blood, does creep like festering lightness,
so to the children we care, with murmuring kindness.