Around us clashing swords, fight and flee,
Turn and fight, adolescent girl days lost in
Œtean Mountains, parents night-separated,
Arrow and sling-stones of mercenaries, no
Path found without dead bodies all round,
Steadily stumbling downward, rocks and
Roots, scraped and bruised, swallowed
Whole by steep hillsides, refuge I took of
Rambling stream, drink from clear reflecting
Pool. “What shall I do?” Never did I answer
Expect from face reflected, not my own.
“Lilia, what haunts you my child? Clothes
Torn, body bruised and bleeding?” Who are
You? I asked, fearful my mind vexing on
Itself. “Wandering shade, drizzling rain to
Sun-filled days, cloud within your soul.”
“What am I to do? Mountain passes held,
Soldiers commanding higher ground. Older
Woman, from water face arose. “Rest here
Two days. Cleanse you wounds, drink your
Fill from enchanted streams, permit you
Will thunderstorms of soldiers pass.”
Sound advice I reckoned. “Who are you?
I must know.” Liquid voice aloud spoke,
“I am Krysta. If you are Lambda, I am Kappa,
Incarnations of your soul, past lives lived,
Alpha through yourself. From time-lost
Grave I speak.” Alas! When peering into
Pool, I saw not myself but her, knowing
Woman of elder age, soul depths fathomed,
Face dream-recognized, who I used to be.
“Your companion I shall be,” Krysta so
Advised. Such ironies, my reluctance to
Accept this maternal side of self.
Two days soothing laves, injuries healed,
Body renewed, no thirst or hunger felt.
Path upward so revealed to welcomed
Heights, open fields of golden grain,
Storm of soldiers rumbled past, beyond
Sight of coursing river plains. To stone
Cottage home, I returned, embrace of
Anxious parents. Of Krysta I did not share,
Such secrets unrevealed, except on quiet
Nights, bronze bowl water filled, her
Lingering face appears, mind’s dwelling
Place, reflected self, Lambda and Kappa.
Whether by exhaustion or enchanting streams, Lilia found
help from her inner self, mind’s dwelling place, an older
woman from lifetime past. Thanks for reading.