Song

Every lost child

weeps with Dolores,

little girl prisoned

in a world of winter,

fragile doll-body

in a globe of snow.

Glass smithereens

against slate-grey rocks.

She pulses with a pain

from which her angel

cannot protect her.

 

Every agonizing voice

sings with Dolores,

Queen of Limerick,

Lady of Sorrows,

fierce as Freya

when she’s at the guitar,

sweet as St Brigid,

this whiskey soprano,

this pint-sized fighter.

 

Every parched spirit

drinks with Dolores

from a well of solace,

from a lake of grace

pure as the first star

kindled in Genesis

and wide as the mantle

of the Virgin Mother

who shelters, who heals.

 

Every celebrating body

dances with Dolores

whose glad feet kiss

the wondering earth,

who sways in the night,

leans into the breeze,

whose voice glimmers

in ghostly moonglow,

whose triumphs and tears

are stored in a bottle,

kept in a book.





Poetry by Uncle Meridian The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 33 times
Written on 2022-06-17 at 08:21

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one trick pony The PoetBay support member heart!
In a poem (song) with an abundance of rich lines and images, this brought it to focus for me:

who sways in the night,
leans into the breeze,

It's just lovely.
2022-06-20