This poem, originally published in my 1994 collection, Dark Song: Fantasies in Twilight (now out of print), was republished in Soul Songs from Distant ShoresI do a reading of the poem here, for those who are interested in hearing it performed.


Death is certain for the born.
Rebirth is certain for the dead.
You should not grieve for what is unavoidable.

— the Bhagavad-Gita

wandering among the stones
lost within myself
i try to retrace those footsteps
that led me into this granite garden
far from you

voices tear through my consciousness,
weeping, beseeching,
calling my name

but i do not wish to answer
i do not wish to let go

there is music in the distance
a song as familiar as your caress

i find myself amid the goblin market
temptation upon temptation heaped up on plates
brilliant with the heavy glint of gold

i shall wait
i shall not betray my memory of you
those opulent hours we spent
in the splendor of the sun

i recall the story sung of mournful Kore
but one pomengranate seed
and i will be undone

seeking something lost
i find only myself
Eurydice huddled weeping
in the eldritch embrace
of silver birch
and whitethorn

have i ever known
any other arms
that held me with such strength,
such understanding?

there was something
but i’ve forgotten what
here where the light of the gravid moon
soothes stark granite and marble
into cool, pure silver
and flesh melts away
into brilliant, unburdened bones

i spin atop an obelisk
reaching into the sky
and eating stars like candied dates

there was something
but i’m free of it now
the trees teach me
what it is like
to shed leaves endlessly
easily as the seasons command

there is nothing
but myself
and the understanding that a seed
must fall to the ground and be buried
before it can aspire
to oak

— M. Belanger