SWALLET PSALM
I saw in dream a citadel –
A mountain castle Tor –
A strait and narrow grass-lined Path
Led to its arching Door.
I walked the line without a doubt –
(Like Montezuma’s Well – )
The Gate contained Another World
Where new Musicians dwell.
The inner space was lined with rows –
The concourses were long –
And All were tuning Instruments
Preparing for His Song.
An irrigating spring of life
Passed to the other side –
Where watercress and maiden-hair
In mottled shade reside.
The creosote was breathing scent –
The sycamore was firm –
I paused to take the medicine
That flourished in the berm.
(6 May 2010, Rimrock Arizona, common meter)
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2 comments:
Your poem reminds me of:
A Cliff Dwelling
There sandy seems the golden sky
And golden seems the sandy plain.
No habitation meets the eye
Unless in the horizon rim,
Some halfway up the limestone wall,
That spot of black is not a stain
Or shadow, but a cavern hole,
Where someone used to climb and crawl
To rest from his besetting fears.
I see the callus on his soul
The disappearing last of him
And of his race starvation slim,
Oh years ago - ten thousand years.
Robert Frost
Thank you, Jean Claude. Montezuma's Well in Arizona does have some cliff dwellings on the inner side. I went there after I dreamed about the mountain amphitheater.
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