2012: a poem

 

BlueFaceGirl by Joan de Bot

2012

Yet ether coming into form,
skin turning from cosmic blue to
something golden as filtered rays
pierce the newness of you,
changing you
in the hissing crack of dawn.

Damp layers of your forming
foaming, then laying down cell
upon cell, as foam puzzles and
teases out the face
the world will see, with
an ear like a conch to hear
terrorist chatter as well as
the music of the spheres, with
a small blue eye that is seed-like
because you see in many ways,
with that mane of locks
tied by blue ribbons resembling
snakes from a galaxy you knew.

The rest of you still becoming
underneath an array of colors
you gathered at midnight and
held fast because they
made you giggle. 
You want to remember
that simple joy later--
when your heart beats
for the longing masses,
when your core hardens
around the soft center of
hope that welcomed you.

When you have finally shed
your swirling cloak of colors
will we see more armor?--
Or is that claw you clutch
with your delicate hand
not armour, but a weapon? --
Or not a weapon, but what
you want to fall upon
to save us from ourselves?

                           MLydiaM ~ January 2012

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