MOON LETTERS : POETRY
The Longings of the Eruhíni - by Isilwen
- My life is as the meadows bloom:
A brief span in the cycle of the whole,
Bursting forth in newness, rapidly to grow,
Rising in the warmth to grasp sustaining light,
Casting forth my seeds then too soon the frost.
Never winter to endure or worlds rebirth to see
Other shoots must sprout to replace my blighted stalk.
Your life is as the forest oak:
A slender, hardy trunk slowly climbing upward,
Higher every season, steadily increasing in girth.
Generations of flowers rise and fade beneath you,
Snows and springs innumerable you will endure,
Towering over the land, drawing strength from the soil!
I envy you your roots.
- My life is as the leaping deer:
In form a lissome sculpture cast of flesh,
Each limb a study in animate perfection,
My every footfall is an unconscious dance.
But bounding heavenward, scant moment suspended
I do hang aloft, and then must touch again the ground.
Eternally graceful, I tread forever tethered to the earth.
Your life is as the fledging bird:
Fragile body scantly clothed in ugly tufts of down
Held fluffed against the cold, ungainly, weak,
Restless with insatiable hunger, growing, yearning
So soon to be transfigured to resplendent feathered form,
Free at last to cast yourself with joy into the sky!
I envy you your wings.