Lightness…
That of the body, considering the Cíes, so much like two women…
At South, with her back turned to where the sea expands
and ceases to be estuary, the woman I have been, perhaps still sore;
not quite from the flights of those marine crows that clawed at her breast
as they sought, by plunging deeper, merely their food – but rather
from the hands of castaway gods, whom, in those much darker quests
to hoist themselves from the abysses glimpsed, would tear
all the skin off her flanks and more, as they grasped her, in despair.
At North, the woman I will be, nude breasts turned to the open sea
and rounded flanks sheltering the whiteness of seagulls’ wings
in brief repose and chant already rising in the sky of the estuary
before the flight.
Lightness…
That of the soul of the woman I am; feet on the ground that is not of sand
but which, to the strong aroma of oaks and pine trees, adds, of seaweed,
the salt and unique scent; in her breast, quite simply the air she breathes;
and the flanks, conceivably the bay, serene, awaiting returns from rough
discoveries; meanwhile, like the waves beyond the estuary, in the song
of the wind her dark hair flies and the eyes soar, in the clear sky
above the Cíes…
© 2006 Alexandra* ~ OneLight*® as Paula Paixão “pedramares” – all rights reserved
Read more about these beautiful isles and the Vigo estuary in the link provided below (website in english - if you experience difficulties while trying to open the link from here, please copy it and paste it onto your browser's address bar)
http://www.turgalicia.es/sit/ficha_datos.asp?ctre=113&crec=9676&cidi=I
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I love how the southern island represents the past, the northern island represents the future and the island in between is the present. Funny thing how the past & future islands are larger than the present one in the middle. Makes me think how it so reflects the lives we lead, making a "big" deal out of the past and the future while lending little credence to the present, which feeds both. The island in the middle should really be the largest one.
With this in mind, I adore the ending
"in the song of the wind her dark hair flies and the eyes soar, in the clear sky above the Cíes…"
Truly inspiring!
Beijinhos y abraços, Amiga de meu coracão ...
Joseph*
Regis
Fee
This nature poem is exquisite!
Stunning and a Keeper for me!
OFF to the VAult it goesssss!
This writing is powerful!
Warm HuGs, Sheeeoxxo
Take good care!
For me, poetry is truly intuitive. Or better, it tries to be.
kisses, do teu amigo
jorge
P.S. This poem is so marvellous. The last time I visited Vigo was 15 years ago (or more) and I thought it beautiful. From there, I went to Santiago and El Ferrol. When I went there, Galicia was something of a nice place to visit. Now, Galicia is life, music, literature, and the Camiño.
Thank you
Jorge
The image is a testament unto itself. The starred sun, the misty sky, the intersecting lines - like zippers into another dimension - the two islands, the brilliant reflection off the surface of the water, and the splash of plant life in the forground, undergird your thoughts bountifully in this construct.
Which incidentally moves over the senses as fine wine over the palate.
And like the image ... your words mold a marvelously tactile impression of your character Paula. Someone who enthralls yet still mystifies.
In my first novel, the crew of the Heimdall explored the Spanish Rias. It was truly fascinating research for me. During this time I fell in love with Portugal and its many mysteries.
Out of the Bay of Biscay they sailed past La Torre de Hercules, and then La Coruna, and the Rias Atlas, and the down past The Rias Bajas to Porto. Eventually they ended up exploring the Pontevedra Province.
I pray that all is well with you and Joseph ...
Light and Wisdom ...
Richard Lloyd Cederberg
This is a keeper for me A, ty
pax A
ps, how have you been?
That of the soul of the woman I am; feet on the ground that is not of sand
but which, to the strong aroma of oaks and pine trees, adds, of seaweed,
the salt and unique scent; in her breast, quite simply the air she breathes;
and the flanks, conceivably the bay, serene, awaiting returns from rough
discoveries; meanwhile, like the waves beyond the estuary, in the song
of the wind her dark hair flies and the eyes soar, in the clear sky
above the Cíes…
the above can be a poem all on its own..
stunning work..
Vesna:)