Ode To Virginia
...for Virginia Woolf
Seashells hiss her mystery,
leaves and flowers whisper
her humanity; lambent lines
of plangent wisdom, stories
of loneliness coated with love
and compassion, poetic
and rich in description.
Shackled in a masculine
environment, a room of her own
to create her ineffable prose,
a well-spring of joys and regrets.
A secluded stream disposed of her,
weighted and swirled where indifference
would no longer vex her to heaven
that welcomed her shimmering soul,
unsored by an unfriendly world.
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