The Urbanite

 

the urbaniteMist hangs over the river

as I clip herbs on the terrace,

a garden of window boxes, and ask the moon

for her support.

 

Her face  half-veiled

by darkness as she stares

at the city’s skyline and listens

to the bone song of old

buildings echoing their stories

through the Autumn dusk.

 

Brick, granite, brownstone–

my ancestors lived

in all three kinds

hungering for the night

so they could stir their potions

and induce dreams

that would  carry them elsewhere

 

while neighbors went to sleep

hearing carriage wheels roll

over cobblestones —  and watched

a street lamp flare. Its flame glittering

within the glass cocoon

like a Luna moth.

 

A thought left by my sisters

who manipulated  place and time.

They learned early how to bind

themselves to the spirit of plants

and the intuition of stars

from virgin to swan.

 

I ‘m still learning how

to turn  off my phone, focus

on  what the sheer stillness

can  invoke —

 

a deep breath, a  glance

at  plant troughs, ceiling beams or floors,

the slate tiles on roof

and courtyard walk — where a fox

comes from her unseen lair

telling  me how  they still haunt (ingrained)

with secrets from her world of trees and rocks,

 

how I am cast

elsewhere in  shadows

that have long been mine, female

but not always human.

6 comments

  1. Wendy,

    I especially love the last stanza. The mention of the fox
    sets it up so deftly. From mist to shadows, there is a sense
    of True Will realized. Magical but more than magic, this
    poem that you conjured. As always your poetry holds
    this reader captive.

    Sarah

    Like

  2. Ditto Sarah – the fox invocation does set a sort of pagan mood for the end. I think it should continue as a series.

    Loved the read.

    Thanks. craig

    Like

  3. “Brick, granite, brownstone…” In context strikes me as though it was “Cave, yurt, wigwam…”

    The urbanite acknowledges her past the way someone might acknowledge ancient ancestors, which lends a unique tone to the entire piece.

    Like

  4. Hi Sarah

    I am so glad you enjoyed this one — and yes it is meant to be magical in the sense of a modern day practicing Wiccan or witch trying to learn her craft in an urban setting. She descends from a long line of witchery and remembers her ancestors and their connection to magic and the magic of the fox and the woods. Thank you so much for your kind words and intuitive thoughts.!

    Take care,
    Wendy

    Like

  5. Hi Craig

    Your assumption about this being tied to a pagan woman and her practice of the magical craft is correct. I am so glad you enjoyed this and who knows, maybe I will expand this one into a series of poems. It’s definitely worth considering.

    Again thank you,
    my best
    Wendy

    Like

  6. Hi Michael

    I like you analytical sequence there of “cave to wigwam”. Thanks so much for reading and sharing your thoughts. They are sincerely appreciated!

    My best,
    Wendy

    Like

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s