You are here: HOME » ART GALLERY » POETRY » LIV S. M. EVENSEN » REUNION

REUNION BEFORE PHYSICAL DEATH

I

Past death and past pensioner's behavior

of having had to pull a curtain down in face of grave danger

had had it rewoven from dying to this earthly ground

she had found herself on other side of death or relationships once

with woven deep blue floor covering recovered like textile

from a mandala, a grave, a full circle of those five...

 

now she was standing tall as pensioned off psychiatric nurse

for them all, the art therapist, the burned one of gist

the darkened alive one with hardly a voice, just a whisper of sores

where the timely so tender kid was still trying to dig out embers of

life in the saddened heap of old mores

...the youngster, shamanic one inside suggested to her

they work together some more, yet whisperings of old

wanted no more of finely tuned heart to be wasted in grief

and sorrows and old mores....

 

the young one could not hear her voice, the older therapist one's

nor words even though she strained,

yet suddenly there stood tall this gentle noble man

with a long coat to cover spirit so fine

suggesting the young, couragesly freed one and him

walk to another phase in life called The Nobel Street,

the young inner active one aquised,

she thought she was diving into sleet

turned out to be wrong, instead as day wore on

she knew, the young and the little one,

that this was about an adult's compassion

for the hug love that had gone...for the one

who had not been able to be strong as males are expected

he had been deeply back into his huge cloud of opera songs

of a heart so broken of a soul felt so forloren he had grieved

and so longed...

 

that was yesterday's fond thinking along Noble Street's insights

acceptance of what went wrong, bad feelings were gone

by remembering him so hugely saddened from his own past songs...

the art therapist's whispered non-heard voice had come in picture once..

 

II

 

Today she is back with the princess royal of the Nor-way

meaning No-man's land, the story tellers' guild,

she walks along a huge middle earth European landscape

of no appearent worth

all hers and his-stories had released into a soul and a heart,

she talks to the princess royal of the story telling creed,

sat down close to her, she had walked the paths cleared behind

stone(d)stacked low walls bound by earthly bonds turned thin and grey

bound up for her to find her own ways

she had walked there, she had talked there

as the young one sat down by her side, talked to her again

told the royal one that she had been writing poetry from dreams

for 4 years, and now it was time they would be writing together

again, tender scores from added insights' healed sores..

 

the royal princess nodded her head,

she was of the royal story teller's creed

that is the oral story teller kind who talks with angels all around

both earthbound and heaven-found

had been to the cross a couple of times, yet poet now arrived

told her she understood her there, the melancholic fare

but to step away from the cross, to get down as it were

the royal princess did not frown

she knew what the motherly somehow poet talked about

and did step away from the melancholic way and

came around to walk these ancient grounds with her again

 

The poet now arrived

had been over to the staircase of a school

where she so quietly had sat down

to see if the head master came around

she did, both the pensioner and a taller lady fine

asked if the younger Liv was now hired as a teacher of a kind

headmaster-female-grand nodded her head, yes, Liv is hired here

they nodded their heads and smiled:

 

"Now we can heap onto her what we did not have the time

to do while we were there, on Planet Earth last time around:).."

said two ladies who came from "the other side":)

Liv said no:)...maybe yes.. who knows...she smiles, probably yes:)..

Yes...:)

 

as she walks back to the cleared up castle grounds

no more now than stacked fine stone walls around

up to her left was a chapel built by fine and loving hands

made to commemorate two who had died

the king and a queen somehow...

 

on the wall were "AD II" in silver letters, made her wonder who....

was buried here...come to think of it now...

maybe that is just fine that she cannot quite remember

except the basement opened up, the tenderest of the youngest kind

who had dug like a small Ashlad in fairy tale embers of saddened old

to see if there was still life in the tenderest child, was handed by gentle and caring arms

to the so polite and so strong troll who lived there for all of humankind...The One for All...

 

she sat down again and spoke to princess-sister one a mirrored kind

got up and took her hand, felt natural as they were two of one kind

walking off to another sphere, knew they would be co-writers again

sometime...reunion before physical death in the ethers of our minds

 

May 29, 2010 AD

Liv Evensen 


^ Top

← Previous page: THE TRUE MISSING LINK | Next page: The Ancient Lot turned into a Choir →