The Spirit Descends

This painting was slow in finishing. I took forever to draw it since I was trying to show a certain kind of movement I’ve never tried before. The idea is completely based off the two poems below which I wrote almost a year ago, but decided to save until I had an image appropriate for them. Back in December I mentioned a set of lines written through different voices where I tried to express parts of my personality/character that I sought to understand better.

The first one here represents a more authoritative and controlling side- a state where I feel overtaken and forced upon to do or be whatever the time calls for, something that gives strength somehow when otherwise there is nothing.

Possessive Descent

Raised
Like goddess or queen
My enrapturing guises sometimes in
The peach sweet scent of innocence
A motherly kiss
Your solid roots and coddled bliss

Only when you deserve it, and in this age
You are worth more toward my punishments
I slit through your supple skins of humanness
With contempt
No leniency for fostering weakness

The botched dive of nestling’s unsharpened wings in flight
She was bitten by the sky and not so for another try
Fearlessness siphoned off in mind…tremulous volition
A hindered grand trine
That sense of faith would fail you for the last time

I had compassion when I thought you could learn
When your limits and awareness were young –
I had more love in my, then sporadic, descents from above
But now I churn with more heat than all worshipped suns
A bold limb’s burning grip rattling to bits in opposition

It will never be your turn.

———————

This second one is from another side- a weaker point of view in contrast to the one above. I meant it to be from the perspective of the one actually being possessed/taken over and allowing it to happen without a fight.     

Of Reverence

The spirit descends
A dark, thick and billowy eminence
She turns my blood in sonorous possession
I ripen in the smolder of her soul

Whisperings of every creep and crevice gather round
We bow to the weight of voice
Recreated – nourished – then once again destroyed
Our return home and
Void identities of own

For the moment we are left alone
We fail in feebleness to sustain our hold of flame
Our share of fervency
In mid-kindle, we are bound

A maternal, compassionate replenisher of life
While at an instance she could will us all to die
Yet for now we are in grace, guided by her light
In awe as she wields and redirects the sun

Order and form brought forth, veins to voice in rhythm
All path ways are purged and cleansed
Toward the greater consciousness
Her will: to sear and carve, meaning to be all we know

Until her lessons become ingrained and we
Are consumed whole

———————

Probably this entire post makes no sense, but I wouldn’t expect something so personal to do that. Working on these poems sorted out thoughts I didn’t consider were even possible to sort, so just having completed them made a difference for me. I was hurting myself in some extreme ways at the time and while I didn’t see it clearly then, I do now very well.

 

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2 Comments

Filed under Life

2 responses to “The Spirit Descends

  1. The painting is gorgeous & I love the double sided coin you’re presented here in poetic form, nice work!

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