THE WATER-CROWN

 

I

 

When you look into the sky at night

The stars above will shine their light

And if you should perchance to see

Just one that falls into the sea

Remember when it touches down

Into the sea--it makes a crown

And if you should a princess be

That crown upon your brow we'll see

The mightiest of queens someday

This water-crown will come your way

And trickle down your cheeks as tears

Absolving you of all your fears....

 

II

 

Restless

like the sea that spawned me

searching for that water-crown

I’ve been told it is mine for the keeping

but water flows, and always down…

I search and tumble in the briny surf

eye to eye with that I cannot see

alongside the sea-urchin and shark

barracuda swims in the dark

my sea is gloomy in this abyss

The star must first fall for the crown

to be made.

I search and wait, search and wait

only to find the star fell on land

parched and fallow

no water- crown made today

no sea, not even shallow

is this how one finds out

one is not

a princess

 

III

 

A liquid thing

the water-crown:

bejeweled and limned

by that florescence of the deep

and the life-gift of the oyster

I wear this circlet on my brow

(perhaps anon to another brow it shall flow)

Neptune’s glory mine to behold

for now

and here in these far recesses of the sea

school creatures of strange visage

and creatures of none at all.

My consort in this vastness

the Sea-horse with his spiny diadem

his coronet more solid than mine

and so his advice well-sought

I survey this kingdom submerged

Fluid water-world

inky darkness but for glowing tentacles

and eyes that gleam in this lightlessness

denizens of the currents

ruled not by me

nor by this water-crown

with which I am investitured

 

IV

 

Alas! This water-crown

has fallen

into the sea-garden

far below my reach or realm

unfastened somehow it became

whilst I explored these wonders

caught up in some reverie

And now it lies

amongst the anemones

its radiant gems lost to me

but not

to the waters that claim it

Upon no other brow shall it rest:

my time is come

for relinquishing,

and this I do gladly

for though it did adorn me

with its golden halo

never was it truly mine.

 

 

©1999 - 2017 Mary Barnett / Moodesigns