The Sleeping Fury
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You are here now, Who were so loud and feared, in a symbol before me Alone and asleep, and I at last look long upon you. Your hair fallen on your cheek, no longer in the semblance of serpents, Lifted in the gale; your mouth, that shrieked so, silent. You, my scourge, my sister, lie asleep, like a child, Who, after rage, for an hour quiet, sleeps out its tears The days close to winter Rough with strong sound. We hear the sea and the forest, And the flamеs of your torches fly, lit by others, Ripped by thе wind, in the night. The black sheep for sacrifice Huddle together. The milk is cold in the jars. All to no purpose, as before, the knife whetted and plunged, The shout raised, to match the clamor you have given them. You alone turn away, not appeased; unaltered, avenger. Hands full of scourges, wreathed with your flames and adders, You alone turned away, but did not move from my side, Under the broken light, when the soft nights took the torches. At thin morning you showed, thick and wrong in that calm, The ignoble dream and the mask, sly, with slits at the eyes, Pretense and half-sorrow, beneath which a coward's hope trembled. You uncovered at night, in the locked stillness of houses, False love due the child's heart, the kissed-out lie, the embraces, Made by the two who for peace tenderly turned to each other. You who know what we love, but drive us to know it; You with your whips and shrieks, bearer of truth and of solitude; You who give, unlike men, to expiation your mercy. Dropping the scourge when at last the scourged advances to meet it, You, when the hunted turns, no longer remain the hunter But stand silent and wait, at last returning his gaze. Beautiful now as a child whose hair, wet with rage and tears Clings to its face. And now I may look upon you, Having once met your eyes. You lie in sleep and forget me. Alone and strong in my peace, I look upon you in yours.
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Credits
- Writers
- Louise Bogan