Part 1: Sphinx Within Unchained
Winding Pindus Mountain footpaths, clearing
Reached, toppled stone columns, one archway
Still remaining. “Time beyoked within my walls,
Flowing river fluid,” echoing voice announced,
I, Cosimia, startled-stopped, water-shimmering
Edifice upon spruce summit. “Fountainhead
Divine, time voyage taken, ship with wingéd
Sails,” voice repeated, brass trumpet’s call
Echoing. “To all you know, illness, suffering,
Bid farewell.” Hearing this, stumbling steps
Backwards, watery hand portal extended,
Forehead touching. Alas! My metaphysic
Soul, sphinx within unchained!
Towards portal I did step, my will powerless,
Fiery root sun-brilliant, solar rays concentrated
On me, time-place dissolved, soul stretched,
Passing moon, orbing planets, goddess greeted,
By deific radiance overwhelmed, overcome,
Touched again, full hand grasping womb.
“Within me is origin of all life, blossoming on
My high altar,” Bona Mater stated, melodic
Voice within my mind, parentage and country
Erased, enlightened path, I strove to ancient
Etruria, mistress not of man, but of high
Priestess, diviner of divine, dagger heart
Thrust, Sybil-sighted awareness transformed.
Lo! First visitors, single syllable uttered in
Request, earth unfolded like scrolls of papyri.
I knew all their souls entailed, past lifetimes,
Karmic debts, horrid deaths, mothers, fathers,
Siblings lost to warring plight, ecstasies,
Struggles grief-stricken of this life, lonely
Souls captive in fleshed-bone, destinies, fates
Unhinged. “Approach, but touch me not,” I
Began, lest they soil me with their mortality,
Even eye contact I forbade. “O! Child bright
From birth, from heights of lightning clouds,
Your life journey I foresee, ten names you
Were known, clothes of shepherdess worn.
Mirror of myself, young maiden worried and
Confused, furies swirling round her, I cast
Another fate, sea-going, island sailing, one
Of blesséd escape, unfettered sunbeams fell,
Absent vengefulness of men, warring sword
And shield, except my protection Ægis clad,
Thyrsi staff thrust to marble floor, Dione,
To Cyclades alight, ancient epochs, dawn of
Man, crude stone temples, faceless statues,
Dozen lifetimes born anew, distant strands,
Renewing streams, almond groves, one
Within the whole, she possessed sweet
Destiny of herself, of her soul.
Written in spirit of Ovid’s “The Metamorphoses,” I’m on a new medication.
Written whilst listening to “Obscured by Clouds,” Pink Floyd, “Obfuscation”
album, 1972. Thanks for reading.