He was angry with his foe
And his wrath grew strong
Till his wrath became aglow
With his vengeful wish all along.
He went to an old witch on a hill
As his wrath was growing stronger
And asked her for a portent spell
To fill his foe with wrath of an avenger.
Thus was laid a wreathe of wrath
On his foe by the paragon of wrath
That consumed his everything to ashes
Ere it bore a fruit in his foe with gashes.
Over the relics of the marvels that belonged once
To a sacred dwelling of a Lunar Goddess, a divine
Maiden of Wild Beauty and Eternal Chastity destined
To chase the wild from dawn till dusk with her golden
Arrows missing nothing even from the top of Olympus,
A High Moon spoke with full of pathos of her immortal story.
“I once lived on the isle of Sicily with Athena and Persephone,
Gathering flowers in the Elysian Fields during the days,
Weaving our father Zeus’ robe at nights under the Moon and Stars
Enjoying our muliebrity unscathed by the lust of amorous men
Whose lascivious desire of women would forever be inordinate,
Spurning Eros, Aphrodite, Songs of Love, and Bliss of Marriages.”
“Then heard was no more; a mirth of our Persephone was heard
Nowhere, for Hades, the god of Underworld, swiftly abducted her
In his chariot and disappeared into the pit of the world down under,
Where I and Athena could not penetrate even with our divine aide,
Ending the blissful companionship of sisterhood for once for all – forever!
And thus I left the isle in quest of eternal pursuit of wild beasts alone.”
“Immune from the spells of Aphrodite and the arrows of Eros,
I am an eternal maiden who is free from marital obligations
So that I can chase down wild beasts with my ever loyal hunting
Companions of a Bear, A Wolf, and a Stag behind me all day long
And dispense my vengeful justice to all devoid of decency and civility,
Like the ones who were cruel to my mother, my brother, and me!
Such was the litany of woes told by a Goddess of the Moon
On a night when a Full High Moon filled the night alone,
Shining brightly alone above a lonely traveler listening to her
Tale of her divine destiny of solitude chasing her objects of
Pleasure for ever- forever continuing till her father Zeus takes
Away her immortality in pity and makes her a star next to Orion.
Gone with tears are the four hearts of four souls,
Weeping for the world pitiless, merciless, cheerless,
Overawing and expiring the tiny flames of four lives, and
Leaving their remains soaked with tears with no friend.
Hope? Forget about the vanity of ethereal remote longing,
Unavailable to them, unthinkable to them, for their suffering
Was theirs, theirs only, theirs alone, not ours, not yours, not mine,
Thinking “Thank God, it’s them, instead of me” with a glass of wine.
Where was Charity when the four souls- two parents, two babies-
Were forced to wander around in the vacant lot nights and days
Facing daily unkindness, hopelessness, rejections, humiliations
Gnawing every part of them till their spirits plunged to a low bottomless?
Woe is to the four souls aborting their Fates so hard, so harsh
In defiance against such Fates that even allowed no remote wish
For instant happiness and now wandering the Place of Grief where
They tell us their failed dreams and disappointments hard to bear.
P.S. : This poem was written in memory of the family of four found dead in the backseat of a van in the parking lot of a CVS store located in Garden Grove, California. It is said that the family seemed to live in the van for about six months or so. The family was composed of a father, a mother, a two-year old daughter, and a nine-month old son. Although the Police is investigating the cause of death, I can’t shake away my strong speculation that it must have been a case of suicide… Hence, this is how I feel about these souls who had no choice but ending their own – including the little ones of their own- . If the father or the mother could have gotten a job, or if anyone could provide them information on how to get public assistance, such as acquisition of housing and food stamp, they would have been with us… They should have not died… I wish they would rest in peace., especially those little ones as my heart is crying…
In the wee-hours of waking from a slumber which
left me bewitched and reluctant to slowly
return to Reality pervading me inch by inch,
My eyes saw them glowing in the twilight silently.
The faces – the faces! – those angelic faces
of the celestial choir of Cherubims and Seraphims
with the eyes of stars in the night sky, but alas!
those eyes, those starry eyes full of silent woes!
As the dawn’s breaking, and breaking ever rudely,
the faces with the fateful eyes becoming faint and fainter,
and the candlelight by the bedside flickering weakly,
My eyes saw the Lights of Life growing big and bigger.
That heartache puncturing my heart in every pieces,
filling the voids with perpetual pathos of longing
lingers in the remains of the days till my soul sees
the sorry faces to tell them I love you, and the love is never-ending.
If I could only know where to begin
to turn over everything from within,
running through this wind of vortex,
with my hands clenched in coldness,
If I could only find where the Fates
live to demand my justice of the witches
who spun the Wheel of Shattered Dreams,
Silent Wishes, All in Epicycle, Orb in Orb, As Always,
With a great flapping of the wings of a new spirit,
I would fly away, far away, without limit.
With a light pair of eyes to see the reality,
I would fly higher, see farther for the beauty.
Once upon a time, by the sea far away from here, In a castle made by crystal, there lived a lady With Diamond Eyes and a Glass Heart as pure As the chaste high Moon on a wintry night sky, As delicate as the dewdrops on the leaves of Flowers in the meadow where nymphs of Dainty beauty danced with gods of winds. The lady in the crystal castle heard the merriment Of the nymphs and the winds in frivolous levity That grew loud and grew louder as the winds Blew hard and blew harder as their fiery gaiety Reached the demise of the frivolity finally as The great waves outside the castle were lulled away, Becoming a sweet lullaby of tidal waves peaceful ever, Caressing her spirit inviolate, her soul incorruptible ever. Alone, all alone – was she lonely? Not ever! Never! For she had two ravens named Thought and Sense That sat on her shoulders and told her of the tales of Day and Night, of Heroes and Gods, of Spirits and Sibyls, And then flew away when their mistress fell into slumber To deliver her message of her Thought and Sense Urbi et Orbi That she spurned the frivolities of the world in the guise of Romance, Reason, and Reality – the Virtual Vagaries as ever, In the crystal castle enameled with her mystic solitude as ever.
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