Rushup Edge Triolet

Lovely family holiday farm-sitting and lots of poetry to write down - I managed to capture a few bits! This one is a 'Triolet' (oooh, fancy pantsy, I know - learned that from a poetry book).

Rushup Edge

I am enthralled by the curve of the land

Its beauty quietly, fiercely holds me.

Her siren call I can't withstand, yes

I am enthralled by the curve of the land.

What tender touch and caressing hand

Imagined her so sweet and boldly?

I am enthralled by the curve of the land,

Its beauty quietly, fiercely holds me.

The Worst Day

Dawn rose on the worst day.
But I suspect only because it had to.
Chased and flustered from it's dark and solemn rest,
Protesting and digging in it's heels
"Surely not today?!"
Surely, not today...?

Its yesterday, cataclysmic in content,
Had seemed like it would be the worst.
With both the direction and endpoint of the cosmos
Rearranged, reversed. Remodeled like some
Perverse pancake-flip of right and wrong
Innocence condemned and the guilty,
The filthy, free as birds.

Love had come in all it's fiery and fascinating fullness,
Had embraced and empowered, had signaled
Loud and clear 'This is the hour!',
Had induced hope to give birth in the hearts
Of the humble, the hungry.
There was water for the thirst.

But love it seemed was not enough.
Because under the hate and the greed and the pride,
The selfishness, envy, we watched love die.
Lye gasping its last,
Crushed with the weight,
It's song sung too late to break Eden's curse.

And how the devil danced that day!
The sky and earth and trembling ground below
Echoing to the sound of a thousand thousand demons
Breaking out into wild, frenzied, feverish dance
- The stench of hell's putrid mouth
Hanging thick like smog on the air.

And yet that was not the worst day.
The next day was.
Because in the night the earth span half around.
Because that morning underfoot was still the ground
As it had been before and above was the sky.
And he was not there
To ask 'why?!' or to speak light into our despair.

That was the worst day by far,
Because all that filled our numb and wrung hearts
Was being powerless and our cowardice.
We were not dead and he was.
And we could not go back.
We were being asked to breathe another breath,
Asked to take another step - and he was not.

The worst day because we knew no more
Than hell did, of what lay ahead,
Only that what had been was dead
And Satan was singing victory and it was
Ringing in our ears - deafening.
And in our minds just questioning and anger and grief.
Could the endless be so brief?
Or with child-like belief had we been the fools?

That was the worst day.
And we lived it and we loathed it.
And it too had a night to follow,
Full of hollow, brooding chaos.
And in that night the earth span half around.
And as life inside us slowly froze,

Again a dawn rose.