The Women Who Wait

If I need you,
will you come,
with love-put light
to drive away the smell
of man-sweat and boy-blood?

Here, the storms whip
and the shadows moan
black beneath the blue,
but I ask for—not so much—
roses under a peach sun,
the lifeline of sea, its sparkle, and
the whisper of wind in my hair,
telling me you are coming home.

My poem from the Oracle. I thought at first she wanted me to write about Penelope, but she wanted the message to include women everywhere throughout time.

puleius (c 124 – c 170) lived in provincial North Africa (in present-day Algeria) and was the author of the only surviving complete novel in Latin. His work, entitled Metamorphoses, or alternatively The Golden Ass, includes the tale of Cupid and Psyche as a story within the story.

According to Apuleius’s narrative, Psyche (Roman Anima) is a mortal of unsurpassed beauty, outshining even the goddess of love Venus (Greek Aphrodite) herself. Jealous Venus sends her son Cupid (Greek Eros) to exact revenge by making Psyche fall in love with the most miserable and vilest of men. Cupid, however, falls in love with her himself. He later arranges her rescue from sacrifice to a monster and installs her in a sumptuous palace and visits her there every night. Cupid, however, withholds his true identity and forbids Psyche to…

The sun is slipping down the horizon. An echelon of wild geese gather above.I follow grey wings into the storm.

My arms are branches of trees and you are
my nourishment, 
cut me down to a boat.
My spine a sturdy keel , my hair
unfurled sails.   A distant lighthouse
my only lamp for you hold the stars
in your hand.
If my  sails are cast into a cleft too
deep for me to cross
I was trying to get to you. 


https://youtu.be/W-FbV31R8y4

rip David Crosby 

As deep as the Mariana Trench

The finest opus of Nightingales

A paradise where birds

sip nectar from petals that

unfurl just for you

Let me leave my mark

so that you will not forget

eternal lovers caught

in a mock sinners lullaby