Similar to Faroene, this is a character poem wrenched from the heart of the Symbologist, Daniskira.
As poetry so often does, it lays bare words, feelings, and fears that Daniskira dare not consider while she remains trapped inside my epic tale, Malmaxa. Should you find yourself confused, don’t be distressed. Sometimes we mistake our intuitions for suspicions. At others we mistake our suspicions for intuitions. Perhaps one of those circumstances leads to our confusion.
~ Daniskira ~
My match’s memory sets my heart aglow.
Such fire burns deep.
Such fire burns slow.
A smiling face to the world I show,
yet when my eyes close,
to my Demons I’ll go.
Demons that in my dreams await,
Demons that stir my fears,
their hungers to sate.
My opening eyes their feast do abate,
yet their shrill screams
still cast doubt on my fate.
How I long to take comfort,
in the arms of my mate.
Will my match’s love last,
will his feelings for me hold him fast?
To these troubled thoughts,
my Demons emit a derisive blast,
“Surely such good things
as Beltamar must pass!”
How I dread the days spent apart,
will our return to Malmaxa,
a new start?
Deaf ears to our pleas do our Demons turn,
and on our shoulders they pile
and heap up their scorn.
You see, it’s for misery our Demons do yearn,
our happiness do they spurn,
and into our hearts cast Doubt,
in which each of us
My back bows beneath such weight,
the hours grow long,
the hours grow late.
Till finally from slumber I wake,
and from my dread dreams I escape.
A clear mind shows me the path,
that leads from their miserable hate,
yet toward whence I know not,
nor my ultimate fate.
Oh how I yearn for the arms of my mate,
Beltamar will offer me comfort.
And yes, his comfort,
I’ll gladly take.
My hanging head releases my tears,
from my eyes to the earth,
do I watch them pour,
my misted vision blots out all fears,
and in my Chukrah’s embrace am I,
Sunrise heralds a new dawning day,
bringing relief, as into my duty I wade.
The unmarked wait in slow moving lines,
My task, my duty, my goal,
and also my why,
is to etch in their flesh their Soul sign,
granted by ancestors on high.
Soul signs shimmer…
these symbols of the Soul do I see,
my Chukrah reveals their aura to me.
Pure images in my mind flash on by,
overlaid, on a starless, blue sky.
Pure colors coalesce,
Segattoo quills into these colors combine.
with fingers made nimble and sure,
by the gift of my Chukrah,
Soul signs into their flesh
do I draw,
Soul signs simmer…
Soul signs burn,
Soul signs into living skin
do I set,
which I simply, can never forget.
In the dark depths of my mind
Soul Symbols digress,
Chukrah calm staunches my unshed tears,
Chukrah joy fills my heart,
and my head,
does it seem,
such is ecstasy’s sigh.
Safe in my Soul
and in my heart too,
my match does dwell.
I long for comfort in the arms of my mate,
comfort Beltamar granted,
in which I so sorely long to partake.
Till Beltamar’s return,
till Malmaxa into the night sky will rise,
till Malmaxa beneath the full moon does swell,
in the clutch of my Demons I’ll dwell,
held fast by their claws
in misery’s hell.
In Malmaxa I’ll be freed from
my Demons’ tight grasp.
Beltamar’s love is the key
by which, at last,
I’ll soon be set free,
so onto his dream, and his match,
I hold fast.