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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Then Comes the Lady in Blue (“...But to the sound of his passing/he sings. It is a kind of triumph/that he grieves— thinking of the white lilacs in bloom, profuse, fragrant, white in excess of all seasonal need,/and of the mockingbird’s crooked/arrogant notes , hooking him to the sky/as though no flight/or dying could equal him/at his momentary song.” From,”A Man Walking and Singing,” By Wendell Berry) —————————————- Was I so born, As a poet? Having a character with more of a way of perceiving From birth, than having a way with language? A personality more attuned to the motions Of the All and great unknown we share Than being keyed into phrasing trends and The currents of popular word usages? Have I not always been a poet? A translator Of life to the living, seeking the reality of the inner Urgent Voice? More than a being Simply unto myself? But, lacking the confidence Until now, in this old age to know or declare so... That I am a poet? And wondering these things, while Facing a complex, life-threatening surgery? Heaven sent a sign. Outside the hospital, awaiting my appointment, I was praying, while reading a volume of the poems Of Wendell Berry, when a woman came from behind me, From seemingly nowhere and said, “I see you are Reading poetry,” (although I wondered why she hadn’t said “Hear” instead, for I had been gasping out beautiful lines To my husband next to me). Then, there beside me She came wearing Stark blue pants and top, absolutely matching The brilliant first day of autumn we were in, as if she’d Landed directly from the sky: blue from blue And, she sat down beside us, In a moment of spontaneous interaction, And began to soliloquize The classic child’s verse “Little Boy Blue,” with Such an appreciation that it sounded nothing Of the nursery at all, but more a tale Of a living and dying for adults to hear. And all in all, it was alarming! Questioning in my heart if my meaning in life Is to be fully a poet, as I was reading poetry And God sent a woman in blue to match the day and Then sit beside us to recite from her memory The lines of the poem of a little boy in blue Who had lived and died fully in a poem. The questions thus were answered and meant To be nothing but accepted: I have been and Am a poet fully through from birth, a resonance of being. Had not the Lord reached to pluck a bloom from Along the border growth of heaven’s gardens to lift A brightest blue delphinium That would match his sky and found a metaphor For a child of poetry? Had he then let the delphinium Flutter down to its calling as a message, As a poem for a vessel to recite its lines to a poet — And even my husband admitted his amazed witness To the God-sent sign, such as my past mystical events stood Only as privately -known accounts I’ve then related to others. Yet, yes, this was an answer sent to witness — A past and a reassurance of blossoming health, As well as a foretelling of personal purpose As it was born within its keeping soul... The blue lady came more Than a sudden, passing angel. She came in poems Wrapped in raining blue petals Of a Christ-authored metaphor. **********. **********. ************. ********** (C) sally Young eslinger 2020 With thanks & glory to God for this true account
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