Within These Waters
Look into the depths between the lilies,
beyond the darkness, to see
the light held by the stars reflected there.
See that light peel off the water dropping
from your fingers as they trail through the water
to know this light is not so distant, not so silent.
The voice calling to you reminds you that all need not be so dark,
that not every siren will lead you to further darkness,
and that light can conquer shadow.
From the surface of these waters to the fish at your fingertips;
from the trees sitting on the banks to all the land that holds them,
there is not one thing that cannot be brought into this light.
Consider this sign not as a valedictory,
but as a welcoming sight inviting you to be in the light.
If anything, by this you should be astounded.
The optional prompt for Day 29 of National/Global Poetry Writing Month is to write a poem in response to a Sylvia Plath poem. The poem I have chosen:
Crossing the Water
Black lake, black boat, two black, cut-paper people.
Where do the black trees go that drink here?
Their shadows must cover Canada.
A little light is filtering from the water flowers.
Their leaves do not wish us to hurry:
They are round and flat and full of dark advice.
Cold worlds shake from the oar.
The spirit of blackness is in us, it is in the fishes.
A snag is lifting a valedictory, pale hand;
Stars open among the lilies.
Are you not blinded by such expressionless sirens?
This is the silence of astounded souls.
Image source: pixabay.com