And yet…

 

Blue.

The colour of calm seas,

And of clear skies,

Suggesting peace, inner serenity, and clarity.

An aid to meditation and mindfulness.

Blue is also associated with intelligence,

Whereby different shades can

Improve concentration and stimulate thinking.

 

The Celtic sea off Cornwall’s coast,

At times of maximum exposure to

The peculiarly piercing sunlight,

Which appears to bless the natural harbours and shores

Of this distinct land’s end – a separate country

Within and without the body of England –

Is deepest blue, caerulean rather than aquamarine:

Intense, extreme, and almost melancholy.

To gaze at the twinkling sheen of these waters,

Is to gamble with one’s soul,

Since beneath the glistening sparkle

Lurks an ancient force, older than Ia,

The patron saint of Cornwall,

Older than Gwinear and Felec,

Older than Christian memory allows.

For to stare too long at the seemingly tranquil surface,

Might invoke an altogether darker force:

Darker than Mother Mary ever knew.

 

The Supreme Water Goddess,

A fusion of Aphrodite and Cymopoleia,

Of Boann and Sulis,

Of Nerthus and Isis:

A blood-bone-muscle creature

Of tremendous power,

With brain buzzing, heart crashing, cunt pulsing strength.

She will meet your gaze with deceptively translucent eyes,

And draw you down, deep down,

Till  – washed clean and clear of accumulated scree;

A detrital pile-up of social clutter,

Of spirit-numbing, mind-jamming junk –

You re-emerge, wide-eyed and free.

If liberation is an alien thing,

Don’t look into the eyes of the Goddess,

Lest her profound integrity shreds your flimsy psyche utterly.

Best focus instead on worldly affairs

That appear to signify everything,

But count for nothing.

 

The eyes of the Goddess are deepest blue.

Caerulean rather than aquamarine.

And yet…

Her eyes are not so deep as yours.

The depths they contain not as meaningful beneath the pellucid calm.

Never so melancholy as the hidden secrets of your wounded life,

And, despite their majestic gape, incapable of restoring

A simple man to himself.

Where she exerts control, via hard love,

You practise gentle love, purely for its own sake.

If the eyes have dominion, I yield to yours alone.

 

Blue is a good colour.

 

Dafydd Pedr
Illustration: Claire Palmer

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