The Lake and the Rain

The Lake and the Rain

The lake is a mirror
of willow and reed,
a sheet of opaque
and buckled glass
whose bulges break
the billowing leaves
and swaying stalks,
so that the strokes
of umbra and ochre,
of olive and lime
form ever new patterns…

And then the drizzle
adds ripple on ripple,
painting an intricate
pulsing design
of circles and squares,
flashing and fleeting,
never repeating…
never depleted…
never completed…
It all has a meaning,
It all, maybe, matters.

Christina Egan ©2022

Summer Rain (II)

The summer clouds, the summer sun
are dazzling on the little lake,
the summer wind, the summer rain
are writing on its shiny slate.

You need not know the ancient script,
you need not know the ancient tongue:
the message echoes in your chest,
the summer rain, the summer sun.

Christina Egan ©2023

The first poem resembles a Cubist painting of overlapping and breaking shapes in sombre earthy colours: nature viewed as an abstract painting, or rather, a composition in permanent motion.

The second poem reads the rain on the lake as a secret message, perhaps like the ancient declarations on the Rosetta Stone… We may not be able to decipher or understand the message sufficiently, but it is there!

Everything reflects everything else… and perhaps the whole world reflects a higher world. All this beauty and meaning can be found in the smallest slice of nature, in the pond down the road.

Der Himmel reißt auf

Der Himmel reißt auf

Zierliche Zweige, schwarz
gegen den Honighimmel,
Pfirsichhimmel,
Flammenhimmel,
die einzelnen winzigen Blätter
klare Keilschriftzeichen
auf irdenen Tafeln,
leicht in der Hand
und schwer von Geheimnis.

Der Himmel reißt auf,
gezacktes Gewölk steigt,
spreizt sich, schwenkt Geärm,
rosa Riesenkoralle
vor blaßblauer Südsee,
zuckt auf, fällt zusammen,
zieht fort, violett verwelkt,
aschene Spur im Äther.
Welch verschwenderischer Glanz…

Christina Egan © 2017

Silver Vein

Silver Vein

The curves of your step and your hand
leave a feathery trail in the air,
leave a flickering trace in my heart.

It’s a script you can’t see,
it’s a script I can’t read,
it’s a glittering vein on the earth.

That you weigh your weight,
that your flesh fills space,
that you radiate warmth

is a wonder to me,
a wealth of amazement,
a maze of desire.

Christina Egan © 2006