Ancient Promises

Every now and again, I discover a poem that I wrote many years ago, and had since forgotten. I love these little surprises, a voice (clearly my own) both distant and intimate.

Often these poems are hand-written on pieces of paper that have been folded into a book. Here’s one that recently dropped out of Sri Aurobindo’s Bases of Yoga—a slender little book hidden among other slender little books in a stack on my bookshelf.

Isthmus

The imagery in the poem dates it clearly from the mid-90’s, when I was living in Madison, Wisconsin, on an isthmus between Lake Monona and Lake Mendota. I would often walk along the shore of Lake Monona, first thing in the morning.

After meandering through a quaint residential neighborhood, I’d find myself at a footbridge spanning a channel connecting the two lakes. This little river was lined with willow trees, as was the shore of Lake Monona on the other side, where a long narrow park made it easy to wander and enjoy the sunrise and quietude of the early morning hours.

I would often pause to appreciate the reflections of the willows on the still or rippling surface of the lake, something that I found truly enchanting. And that would seem to have been the starting-point of this poem …

Eve Petitions for Re-Entry

blesséd flesh so
long forgotten
come down with me now—
dawn stitching light
to the worst of your dreams
—into another garden … this

shoreline holds forever
its ancient
promises … the willows living
here in fluid
stillness recognize
themselves without
hesitation

slide yourself
between them ask
for guidance
(counter to the well-known
myth it is no sin to love
your quivering
reflection)

a star’s ruby
warmth will rise to greet you
a sky’s
stigmata, holy
fruit, the flush
of color in your lover’s
cheeks …

~ Elizabeth Reninger

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