In Memory of Memory by Maria Stepanova (Fitzcarraldo Editions)

When Maria Stepanova was fifteen, her mother showed her a small lace purse which had belonged to her grandmotherLyolya and which contained an old, small piece of paper “beginning to tear at the folds”; on the paper was written a single name: Victor Pavlovish Nelidov. The name was a mystery to her mother, and it remained one to Maria despite her searching; and a mystery it remains – as far as the reader ofIn Memory of Memoryknows – to this day. The purse, the folded piece of paper, and the ‘invisible Nelidov’ are a potent symbol of the hopeless yet meaning-rich search which has clearly obsessed Stepanova for years and to which this book is an outstanding testament.

I have had no success, only the feeling of walking into yet another empty green field and realizing once…

Listen to heart-songs–
the breath of eternity,
as ocean-kissed air dances
with brilliant sparkle-light,
and white-cat clouds pounce
with joy
at the blue-blanketed sky, wondering

~if~

ghosts hide in the shadows,
perhaps they linger to tell their secrets–
imprisoned between before and after,
they wind-whisper
in the fever-blush of morning sky,
and silent-laugh in the night—
at your smile from the window.

A late message from the Oracle today. We’ve had blue sky and sparkling water the last couple of days. As I was getting ready to post this, I looked up and saw this painting of my mom’s. It doesn’t have a title or date that I know of, but it seemed to fit.

As night settles, her dark vigil begin
Guiding shadows every night
Watching over all hunted by demons within
Calling lost souls to the light

As countless as the stars her kin
Find at her side, respite from the daily fight
All those made to feel uncomfortable in their skin
Feel recharged by her watchful caring sight

When teary sorrow and stormy fears set in
Her birds catch nightmares in their flight
As she new rainbow dreams spin
Mistress of watery midnight

©RedCat

As soon as I started looking at that art piece, a phrase from a song started spinning through my mind. “Mistress of watery midnights” is from this healing chant I found on Insight timer.

See all art and read all poetry at The Wombwell Rainbow.

What moons are these?
Or are they some stars descended
from celestial spheres,
What birds perch here?
all unmoving silent, resting, in your
cool pristine aqueous Eden,
silver white presence reflecting a
glowing mosaic of fireflies, floating
in the deep,
beauty of nature, in perfect order,
In sphericity uncoiled, no sharp stones
no walls perceived,
What strange snowy sweets, placed
as gifts received,
Know then the truth with the vast dark pall,
Almighty Creator is the Greatest of All.

This is the final day of Paul Brookes’ Ekphrastic Challenge. (The dates were a bit off.). I participated every day, and it was a challenge, but a good one. I think the art made me think in different ways and produce poems that I would not have come up with otherwise. And now, I have a group of poems to revise and perhaps put together in some format. Thank you to Paul and to all of the artists who provided their creative work for this project. You can read all about them by going to the link. Congratulations to all the other poets who participated. There was one image for today:

Like Birds

She chants the words–
like tiny birds they fly
from her lips, the magic drips,
and she slips fever-nipped
to the riverside.

Is the reflection hers, or some other–
who might have been spirit or…