An Ode composed upon a journey
(This is a piece I wrote many years ago and recently revisited. It’s something that still speaks to what I’m exploring now, in a very different chapter of my life. I wrote it before I had language for what I was trying to understand. Revisiting it now, I’m struck by how much of the same thread was already there. I recognized myself in it again.
I saw continuity across time and let my current voice meet my earlier one without overriding it, a conversation between two versions of myself.
And they understood each other.
The deeper themes I recognized are those of voice, self-authorship, inner calling, not over-refining, and choosing one’s own path. This poem is basically the mythic, symbolic version of what I’m writing about now.
Returning to this piece allowed me to feel playful with language again, and I like to think of this as just that: A playful dance in loose iambic tendency. I hope you enjoy it.)
An Ode Composed Upon a Journey
Something awakens late one evening, a song that awaits orchestration, accompaniment, a player to strike the first chord…The first note struck, the music wells in waves unheard before, in tones and depths and harmonies, surprising to the body of the instrument…
The lady in the fortress strong
(both of stone and proud)
wakens under spell of night
from sleep and woven shroud.
She stirs amid the starlit night
and finds herself alone,
whilst distant voices rising now
draw closer to her own.
The lady listens carefully
as the sounds draw near;
her ears turn t'ward the melody
of songs she’s longed to hear.
The knights they come to court her,
the troubadours abound;
each one plays a different tune
varying in sound.
One he sings of pleasures fine,
one for poet’s song,
one to touch the higher mind,
and one to send along.
The lady turns and weaves a tune
from the notes they play;
she weaves a melody fine as gold
and she begins to sway.
The sages, singers, players all
they preen their feathers fair;
the lady muses as they call
what dance with each to share.
The troubadours lay offerings
before her ringed feet;
with words and promises they sing
those melodies all so sweet.
From all the gifts most glittering
the lady chooses well;
the ones she favors most of all
of her true Self they tell.
Vows of rescue and of love
the gentlemen present;
with grace she touches each one’s cheek
and on their way they’re sent
A message she does offer them
before they’re sent away,
“I’d rather save myself, good sirs,
mine own song I shall play!”
“For who,” she asks, “can truly know
this heart my very own;
I’ll keep it all just for myself
and wrap it tight in stone.”
For great long hours she moves alone,
her limbs and body sway;
safely with her fastened heart
she’ll dance the night away.
Then deep in blackest hours of night
a sudden sound doth ring;
the lady’s heart -- it calls to her!
This part too must sing!
The dancer moves more swiftly now
and music fills the air;
the lady turns once more and finds
her own reflection there.
The notes that she embroiders now
from within herself unfold;
the chords first struck do resonate,
the song at last is told.
Weaving, spinning, eyes half closed,
she moves from side to side;
until she hears the sweetest tune
from one soul’s midnight ride.
From whence this messenger doth come
is yet and still unclear;
this unexpected troubadour
toward whose song she’ll near.
The sound that reaches to her ears
well blended with her own;
this song, how it doth verily
crumble down the stone!
To this fair knight the lady pose
a question with a smile;
she reaches out her hand to his
“Wilt thou dance with me awhile?”
The song of knight and lady’s dance
do make for joyful time;
The starlight shines through turrets grand
and makes for merry rhyme.
The bells of distant lands do toll
and so they turn to hear;
the music pauses whilst they stand;
a journey’s drawing near.
The lady reaches for her cloak;
the knight for traveler’s needs;
together they depart the tower
and climb upon their steeds
A journey lies before them now
of distance yet unknown;
they gaze upon the other’s brow,
well past the walls of stone
The lady’s horse begins to move
along a path well worn;
the knight stands at the crossroads;
his steps not yet forsworn
The lady turns and halts the steed
to gaze upon him there;
the sounds of bells ring from afar
through misted, tolling air
She looks long upon him now;
a tender smile appears;
and though her heart is filled with thanks,
her eyes are filled with tears
“I knew you from a time long by
and parted from you then,
in sorrow I do see you go
until we know not when.”
The knight stands still as oaken wood
and ponders for a while,
“My lady shall forever dance,”
he says at last and smiles.
“For we have known each other
a hundred times before,
and hundreds more await us;
of this you can be sure.”
In silence now they look once more
upon the other’s face;
for both they know upon this hour
such parting must take place.
The knight directs his stately horse
along his steadfast way;
he begins to sing his lovely song,
and she hears from far away.
Yet even now in distance great
his song rings true and clear;
the melody remains with her;
and long she will it hear.
Within the stirrups gently move
the lady’s ringed feet,
to the sound of that sweet knight’s melody
and her own true, heartfelt beat.