“Half-Draped Figure,” Abbott Handerson Thayer, 1885, WikiArt.

Part 3: Resurrection of Arisbe (Last)

Breaching waves, deep within my mind,
Voices called, Arisbe night awakened,
“Holy Mother, I wish to be myself again.”
For months her soul slumbered in my
marrow, though-stirring, mysteries of
Archaic eras, ceremonies mystery-cloaked,
Resurrection of Arisbe’s bones, secretive
Rites were never written nor whispered,
Hot knife blades upon betraying tongues.
Life born from death required spilled blood,
Sacrifice of one, so others may survive.

Shrines and altars, Naxos island cave, what
Ancient god here once resided? Ambrosia
Fed, divinity nurtured, presence I feel this
Day, life emerging from marble brow, wine-
Frenzied state, growing seasons, thunderous
Lightning, Dionysus and Zeus, from ashes
Race of man was born, Arisbe’s soul spindrift-
Free, fear and dread of tormentum’s touch,
Dark wings unreaching Ægean brine, young
Woman’s sigh of evening breeze on my face,
Wonders o’erlooking cerulean seas.

Needle threading loom of life, Arisbe’s linen-
Draped bones on altar stone, dagger separates
Flesh of my breast, nipple blood-dripping on
Skull and matted hair, empty eye sockets,
Awaiting, spells, chants raised to gathering
Clouds, “O! Divine maiden flower, rare her
Petaled beauty, rare her soul, rarer still her
Melodious voice, blood and bone as growing
Fields, muscled sinew, seeds leaf-sprouting,
Time-tides reversed, death unhinged relying,
Prayers of restoration, resurrection: Arise!”

“Assumption of the Virgin,” Pierre-Paul Prud’hon, WikiArt.

Thunderclap o’erhead, rituals I commanded,
Miracles on mountain heights performed,
Beating heart first sounding, coursing blood,
Pale skin reformed, bright-eyed divinity, Arisbe
Arose anew, child I had once known, breath
Inhaled, words to me spoken, “Holy Mother,
I am myself as fates allowed.” Hugged embrace
We shared. “My womb again is filled, prophetic
Voice instilled, personification of sun, healing
God, such mysteries revealed: I am of your flesh
And this world. Above them, I have ascended.

As reflected in this three-part poem, mysteries and ceremony have existed
since ancient times, often involving sacrifice, transformation, and at times,
Ovidian-type metamorphosis. For more on this concept, 
see link:
Thanks for reading. 

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