Your name is a secret slowly distilled
from hilltops and shadows of clouds, from rain
at breaking of dawn, from moon-dreams fulfilled,
from sunlight on waves; from pleasure and pain.
Anointed in attar and musk, your name
was whispered to stars the day you were born;
and taken by rivers, by wind it was claimed,
your name is since then forever adorned
with crocus in spring, in summer: lavender bloom
with apples in fall, in winter with snow;
your name is persistent, it’s imminent doom,
it’s wail of the storm but afterwards glow
Some call you landscape or simply the earth
I know you’re phoenix from death into birth.
Kim want’s us to her about how you named something or someone at toads: a child, a pet, a plant – and I couldn’t think about it, so I went a bit abstract instead, talking about all that can exist in a name… and whenever I’m faced with a problem I write it as a sonnet.
I will also link this to Poetry Pantry tomorrow morning.
March 23, 2019