By Devi Singh

Original artwork by Devi Singh

I.
the road is hard
and numbingly long
no change in site
no freedom song
my mortal outlook cries complaints
aching for the breaking throng
my lips are parched
the bloodline drawn
cracking like the weathered ground
upon which my poor self i found
by the oasis grave that has kept me bound

II.
the morning sun
that deserts the sweep
threatens to bring
the blinding sheet
in cactus juice i flood the pain
that every pore of mine excretes
and when i lift my head to see
one hundred pounds i fall asleep
again to dream of gimps and ghouls
mingling in among the fools
lured by the cool praetorian pool

in the reverie i twist
lost in halls
i long to kiss
desperately i crawl
hoping at least to feign
unable to leave the mark of love
every turn reveals a maze
of trouble chaos and deceit thereof
it is of me to take up the lance
and stave from here the worried glance
but again i find i betrayed the chance

and still i fight
my way asunder
not caring or wanting
to wake from slumber
though horrified and sourly blissed
i dance all night the devil’s lover
and what was it i was meant to do
in this nightmare that the dream uncovers
putting grogginess and romance aside
the red sodden ground still seems alive
knowing not that i am not outside

III.
but there is an ember
left aglow
that beckons from beyond my sleep
aiding angels in their tour
to find and retrieve my battered keep
from this nightmare’s stinging floor
under shoulders carried high
to a land of rivers and rosy shore
of green grass and soil of feathers
venerable clouds and sweet smelling heather
this dream proclaims a gentler weather

and as i take breath up sashays a lizard
a book of leaves within its mouth
dropped by my feet to take in hand
then licks his lips returning south
but knowing that dangers abound
my rescued eye is quick to shut to watch the stalwart reptile dissolve
now more awake within my sleep
i hear the approach of wings above
how odd to see cleopatra, arsinoe, nefertiti
whose gilded wings are slowly beating
no smile no frown no sign of greeting

IV.
these rivers about
hush their flow
their sensuous pull and scent recede
whilst the three winged creatures take hold
of my senses and i can no longer see
but under eyelids grand images grow
and three voices like songs to orient me
and a story of trial and triumph is told
of a small child wounded by wolf of purebred
of a girl whose garb is torn and she weeps
of a lady whose heart in a cage she keeps

of a lady whose anger
can flare like the sun
whose fluid inspiration
can not be outdone
of a lady whose magic
when once begun
will strike through hearts
like a gatling gun
and within i can feel a stirring prevail
from their infectious tale
their breathtaking gale

V.
to aid in their leave
three sphinxes arrive
and the trio mount with grace and with speed
their mountainous muscles and streamed wings do drive
the zephyr and the river and the spirit in me
i rest my head down to savour the sight
and there alone i strangle a cry
and in curves and turns i ascend through a mist
past the bloody ground and the horrors i missed
straight pass the halls to accept the kiss

VI.
waking at dawn
having adventured through night
the kiss of the sun
is the fuel to ignite
the flame that has failed to burn for so long
knowing the dream will guide to ridiculous heights
the oasis is quiet and waits for my move
no longer a grave a holding place a fright
its fruit is now bounty for a wounded child
no longer a wasteland and nightmare of trials
and the memory of a lady will keep me awhile

VII.
the oasis is quiet and waits for my move