Poem by Lola Ridge (1873-1941)

The Edge


    I thought to die that night in the solitude where they would never find me...
    But there was time...
    And I lay quietly on the drawn knees of the mountain, staring into the abyss...
    I do not know how long...
    I could not count the hours, they ran so fast
    Like little bare-foot urchins - shaking my hands away...
    But I remember
    Somewhere water trickled like a thin severed vein...
    And a wind came out of the grass,
    Touching me gently, tentatively, like a paw.

    As the night grew
    The gray cloud that had covered the sky like sackcloth
    Fell in ashen folds about the hills,
    Like hooded virgins, pulling their cloaks about them...
    There must have been a spent moon,
    For the Tall One's veil held a shimmer of silver...

    That too I remember...
    And the tenderly rocking mountain
    And beating stars...

    Lay like a waxen hand upon the world,
    And folded hills
    Broke into a sudden wonder of peaks, stemming clear and cold,
    Till the Tall One bloomed like a lily,
    Flecked with sun,
    Fine as a golden pollen -
    It seemed a wind might blow it from the snow.

    I smelled the raw sweet essences of things,
    And heard spiders in the leaves
    And ticking of little feet,
    As tiny creatures came out of their doors
    To see God pouring light into his star...

    ... It seemed life held
    No future and no past but this...

    And I too got up stiffly from the earth,
    And held my heart up like a cup...



More information on Lola Ridge

Poetry by Editorial Team The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 242 times
Written on 2022-08-29 at 00:00

Tags Newzealander  American 

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Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
I don't know if I've ever read so many similes in one poem.