‘Edenbray in Exile’

A Retrospective Anthology of 50 Poems, Articles and Essays

… … …

CHRYSALID

…

The open wound healed and the taut,

pale skin grew faintly over

Foreign fingers still felt for that

awkward pain like a summer lover

Quiet amateurs, just sad explorers

who never quite reach above

Likened to madmen who endanger

love as they push, they shove

We set about this long road a long

while ago and the blue horizon

Sapphire and urban it lies like a

burning snake upon the sand golden

Where I am going is the choice of pilgrims

and you might not come

Where I have been it is cloudy,

it is overgrown, now lost in the sun

Darkness growing, an army lost

from sight and the faint colour of snow,

To temper it’s soul we reached out

to touch it and in the darkness, it glowed

Hands blackened from course, silent,

prayers break the granite of shame

Chisel-men, peace-men step from their caves,

the least should bow to blame

The strength of the ox and the plough,

the sweat of a nations golden thigh

There marched fourteen thousand,

yoked to broadsword to live or to die

Rivers fall, the longest path tumbling,

like frothing beasts in metal chains

Where the almanac says parties will vie

for certain clouded peace in vain

So many stories should be written,

so many angered tales of far too few

Black earth & soldiers bloodied ordure,

la couche de Mouron-des-Oiseaux

And the midnight call to prayer,

attended by Monsignor and His Wives

That silent abattoir where only things

unholy are unspoken, only evil dies

…

writtenbyedenbray20.04.2018 

…

‘the life of chrysalids may be prolonged by keeping them in a cold situation, such as an ice-house’.

~ According to M. de Reaumur

…

la couche Mouron-des-Oiseaux – the blanket of wild chickweed

..

Authors Note: We have reached No. 40 of this latest Anthology of work completed post-2013 and this is so far the most recent I have included in the Retrospective, having been written as recently as April, 2018.

A lot of things are happening in this piece – a lot of allusions – a lot of imagery – a lot of history to be recognised and a lot of future hopefully to be discovered.

I would call this a hopeful piece – it touches on past hurts, past grievances that sometimes lie dark and festering – waiting their chosen moment to resurface and exact revenge but those painful memories and troubled times can with forgiveness, tolerance and the strongest human character – be allowed to die, experience a kind of metamorphosis and change into something quite different. Humankind must choose the individual specifics.

Like a lot of these chosen pieces, this poem was not written with the Covid-19 Pandemic in mind but applies itself quite well. A lot of pain and broken pieces will need to find such a healing and rebirth after this sad and sad time for so many. Can humankind find the good grace to enter the chrysalid, find a way to properly mourn its losses and emerge in a brighter day? History tells us it can but also tells us it doesn’t always. ~ edenbraytoday

Can humankind find the good grace to enter the chrysalid, find a way to properly mourn its losses and emerge in a brighter day?