her town, her sleeping ice

her town, her sleeping ice
Anima, animae f.
2001, revised 2023

Jung’s ‘Bollingen Castle’ built by his own hand, image sourced from: cgjung.net (avec accord), CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org

as night,
gates heavy
as four seasons
turning, water winding
through stone to the
heart of the square,
all under her hand,
and hers only,
her suitors are words
answered in a midnight
mirror onto paper,
cathedrals rise
and sink
where she prays
alone as if ordained,
the stained glass rose
of dusk slips over her
shoulders in kneeling as
she gathers her hair
hurriedly at the nape,
willows along
the shallow river curling
placid branch beneath water
like cold remembrance
like cold remembrance
perfumed notes tied to
branches, each with
a strand of her hair
written in the strange
tongues of men
come through here
with their gold, their
glorious caravans, songs
that flutter and soar like
a desert gale
driven on by her silence
no-one stays, the dawn
unknown in others’
eyes, the ice
in casement windows
that splinters
down the

Copyright © 2023 Peter Le Baige.  All Rights Reserved

Click on the link above to hear a reading of the poem.  The accompanying music is from the opening of the second movement (Andante) from Piano Sonata No. 3 in A-Flat Major, Op. 68 by Issac Albeniz & interpreted here in a recording by British pianist, Sebastian Stanley. 

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