Amrita Valan
1.
Bending the Light
I am in the womb
It’s not globular, there are corners
Lovely shadowy retreats
Memories of magical bliss
An iced compartment
Where time can freeze
Sleeping knees tucked into my chest
In magic suitcase of seven seas
Waves lapping caressing, cushioning
Dreams of ancient gnosis
Lodestone of myths.
At the foothill of folklore
Slanting sun rays wash sin away
Awed I ascend the hill of Hope
the doorway of the temple
Declining arches of darkness
Fecund invitations.
My pulse beating drums
In steady syncopating rhythm
Escalating madness over Logos
Stuff of myth and magic.
God is searing my heart. True love
Remains mirage miracle unsought.
Dull pain in my veins, unfulfilled
Potent agency coursing sanguine richness
Ores unmined, refractive index
Glimmer and shine
Cunning wink from
Diamond nose studded Goddess.
She is available alive, if we bend ourselves
To catch the light.
Magic in mantras charmed ancestral memories
Years of practiced yearnings
Birthing fey paeans and inspired elegies
Raised to ensure heaven’s protection.
This present day war torn ozone depleted globe
Seeks blessings intuitively looks inward, to the
Unifying heritage of world myths. May our
Babies emerge from wombs to cradles in bliss.
2.
Memories of Myth and Magic
Lissom Lady Guinevere, either Arthur is kind
Or Lancelot, no betrayal is truly blind.
Longings coursed to life invoked chants
Of unstoppable ecstasy, Merlin knew all,
But let wisdom prevail.
Myth of Dead Gods disproved, their deeds are walking
Thor’s hammer, Zeus’ bolt, thunder and lighting
Strike as brothers in arms. Rain disarms none.
Whorls of kindness spiralling mercy in prismatic halos
Guilty aftermath of shared passion.
(Helen and Paris standing forever
Together by the walls of Troy.)
Now that I have seen patterns of rainbow breach
Slatterns of shadows, Hush! The show must go on.
But the magic lantern mythos fades
The theatre lights come on.
Sunlight creeping tendrils of full blown diurnal love
Lust moist, melting sublimating upon the windowsill.
I'm distraught, lost in lucid thoughts
Somewhere deep down conscience’s gullet road...
Snapped tightly shut, a guilty suitcase locked
Myth or Magic drifting slowly, south by south west
off the coast of real time thoughts
To barbarous borderlands.
(Boadicea stands still at Kings cross
Awaiting her morning train
Forgetting her queen's victory
She examines her nails...)
Amrita Valan is a writer from Bangalore, India and has a master’s degree in English Literature. She is the mother of two boys, and an avid reader, writer and observer of life.
Her poems, short stories and essays have been published in over a dozen anthologies and online journals.
