Softly, in the mist of moonlight,
a woman is singing to me,
black feet-long hair with a smile so genteel;
taking me back down the vista of years, still I see
a child sitting behind the grand oak tree,
accompanied by the drowsy eyes of blooming leaves,
and harbored within a thousand impossible dreams,
when the melody of sorrow speaks,
freedom is not to be found any near!

Tenderly, in the embrace of moonlight,
a woman is singing to me,
Her name BlancheFleur, the 'white flower',
half veiled half kneeled with a glance so sweet, 
And in spite of myself, 
the insidious mastery of her Maiden song
betrays me back to the vista of years,
till the heart of mine weeps to belong,
to the enchanted orchid garden where minstrels chant along,
and hymns in the emerald parlor, the tinkling harp of folksong. 

Now the glamour of childish days is upon me,
my maidenhood is shadowed by the blood of grievance, 
my womanhood is cast down in the flood of remembrance,
All my life I wanted a Home,
Yet all my life I feared a Home, 
BlancheFleur, the 'white flower',
I lost her to the mighty evil,
and I weep like a child for the past....
   
Posted by:Annabel

A Dancer, choreographer, A researcher who specializes in Religious Dance and Ritual Performance Study. My blog is the notepad of my consciousness in the modern era we live and a witness of my unique journey on earth, in the cosmos.

10 replies on “BlancheFleur – a woman’s soul

    1. You are very kind, dear Michele💕 It’s a feminine journey of lost and grief, of many ‘dragon battles’, from unconscious naïveté to touch the conscious light.
      I’m so happy that you enjoyed this poem! Send love❤️😘

      Liked by 1 person

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