She, with her wings clipped in shackles
Sees the light above the high altar
Through the dusk of leaves and boughs
Beneath the dome of boundless skies
Without spires and stained glass within.
But why else when nature has it all
Sermons in trees, brooks, and skies?
From the haunt of life’s vicissitudes
rests herself under the pillars of trees
As the choristers of hummingbirds begin
The hymns of hope in nature’s cathedral.
She sits under the shades of willow
Where she came from, no one cares
The castle East of the Sun West of the Moon.
Then the leaves of the tree whisper to her ears
“Ride on the wings of the Four Winds therefrom
The Castle East of the Sun West of the Moon.”
She speaks in the language of the wind, Aeolian
And calls for the Four Winds to carry her home
The Castle East of the Sun the West of the Moon.
First East wind comes, she rides on his wings anon,
West Wind, South Wind, and to North Wind reaching
The Castle East of the Sun West of the Moon.
Ere the Sun goes west and the Moon comes east
Or she will never get to her beloved home
The Castle East of the Sun West of the Moon.
The plain girl who thought she was kept away from all things pleasant and pretty because of a suspected hex cast on her was walking toward the setting sun sinking into the west end of the horizon, smearing the sky with scarlet halos. The sky was burning, burning with a day’s unfulfilled passion, aborted wishes, and ridiculed hopes until a moon and stars appeared from the west and calmed the fiery sky that was still ablaze with shattered dreams. The sky was her heart as though someone with magical power had been watching the poor, plain girl all along, or so she thought.
Nothing miraculous would happen to her unless a kindly immortal being made her life merry and worthy of living because the plain girl was heading to her death. So first, through the forest paths out into a field of flowers, then upon the hill overlooking the wavering ocean, she loved so much for its wild, untamable nature that resembled her own.
The moon was full and high now, and the world became alive with spirits and sprites rejoicing the serenity of the night and the silence of the day. The plain girl saw the souls of the dead at sea rise from the tidal waves and walk on the crest of waves toward the mysterious melodies coming from the west of the moon. They all looked enchanted, so she coveted the enchantment and followed the watery paths she believed would lead to meet the Fates and ask them to give her a new fate.
Maidens of the Evening Star, Daughters of Atlas
Goddesses of the Evening, Children of Nyx
Live far away from here beyond glorious oceans
On the boundary of the Night encircled by stars
with pales hues of sunshine in the land of the Hesperides;
Mirth and music spring from the land of the Hesperides
Where they tend a garden of divine golden apples
Guarded by the faithful dragon Ladon with mighty wings
Swooping four winds, bellowing a crescendo of flames
That envelope the circle of divine parameter against the mortals
Till the impetuous half-man, half-god Hercules darts an arrow
Dipped in the blood of Hydra piercing the heart that dies in sorrow
shedding the tears for love for his goddesses, the Hesperides;
They mourn for the death of their beloved Ladon, whose blood flows
From the still warm heart and meets with tears from the diamond eyes;
And the gods of Olympus bring the slain dragon among the stars
And give him a house of his own named Draco where he can watch always
Over the garden of golden apples in his beloved land of the Hesperides.
The world is a battlefield, and you are at war
On the frontline against the forces of despair;
Life is a bivouac, wandering, searching always
With the star above you following all ways;
So keep hopes with a heart even for your fate.
Come with a cheer or come with a call,
Come with a dream or not at all;
Up the rainbows and down the valleys
Good will prevails, hope sparkles;
Humor is a jolly good friend as always,
The joy of the world your spirit finds;
Your smile shines through the gray sky,
The soul flits on the avenues of ecstasy.
Republic of heaven is here, come what may.
Flame, Glass and Ink are Poems, essays, and reading notes by Stefania Joori Suh 
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