Tribute to a Goddess of Words
It has been two scores, one decade, and a year – minus a day, she slipped away..I was 27 days old..sleeping in my crib..I dream, she came to me, watched me slumber, in her knowing, I too would meet Ted. He would watch tiny pieces break off, break apart, and turn to dust. She whispered to take comfort in her pain, to rise like a flame: Lady Lazarus.
Perfecting the Germanic way, blonde and fair, bare eyes cast to blank sheets of paper, tight lips, and Tulips- soul to fill each line with confessions of betrayed ink. Our pen will never betray us, dear Goddess.
I was 27 days old with her Virgo moon. She passed the baton to my dimpled hand, wrapped my fingers round her pen, blessed my soul with a kinship of a grief too great for any page to balance with genius strokes.
With perfection, you agonized over every stroke. With courage, you breathed your last breath, breathed to death , leaving a weaving of words behind -a little clue of you. Sometimes wished I had the courage too.
Dying to live, under The Bell Jar, I slept awake, I am. I am. I am! inside the world-it passed me by at times so slowly, so cruelly. It passed me with quiet scenes and roses.
I read the pride of words, speaking with deceit, leaking to compete. It sealed my mouth and slit my soul. It crowned my thoughts with a knowing. I watched as emeralds spilled- under the bell jar with Sylvia..we spilled one winter onto pages for a final finale of words. You are forever immortalized under the bell jar…all of the pain and shame remains not, dear One.
You do not sleep alone, I am there next to you, sleeping giant stone.