Mine Na Poem

Mac and Moir

In crown of stupa,
The sugilite jewels birth the Violet flame
Fresco half-moon-wise
the excavated
Blue lotus, bud-eyed boy of two
Rises to
Hear his mother’s universal voice in the wind
Running barefooted on the damp grass
Between the golden yews and pass
spires of irish bells
Meets her at the garden gate
To nestle his face in the warm depression of her shoulder
In intervals
She swings him high, then
She anchors him back to her eyes
And wraps his anam in the seventh ray
Holding back the night, to bless his lifestreams
Until memories retreat into the void

Words: Nara   Art: Christin Laszka

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Jay Poem 1., Jay Poem 8.

Jay Icarus

He was like Icarus.                             He was my Aurora.

I tried to pin him down,                   Into a butterfly collection.             Make him a wish, as white as the night.                                                          A notion, as blue as the yew.

He only settles in memory,             Of an antique mind;                        Full of lifelong longing.

His vanishiment, to a new light spectrum.                                      Where feelings are not               Pangs of pain,                                  Only continuate bliss.               Where he remembers my name, Not the taken.

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