The Lion and the Gypsy
For some, life is simple in raw assertiveness,
With no disarmament of conscience and alertness.
Beneath a moonlit sky, a heartbeat from closed eyes,
The wild beast presides with power over life.
Sleep, child. Water to drink and music to compose;
Let the restraining odour fill the lion’s nostrils
Whose appetite is satiated and mind, perplexed,
Questions itself: “Is it living or is it dead?”
The gypsy, tranquil, reclines on the sands of time,
While the big cat is stymied by its unresolved find.
His, the will to survive with the instinct to kill and eat;
Hers, the want of love to create and the desire for peace.
Where now destined the lion and gypsy shift,
The outcome determined and the conclusion swift.
***
Note:
“The Lion and the Gypsy” is an ekphrastic poem perspective of the 1897 painting "The Sleeping Gypsy" by Henri Rousseau (1844–1910).
Customs man Henri Rousseau
part-time gave painting a go
Great detail was his particular thing
with child-like eyes he did bring
Questions arise as I walk with them -
finding contradictions of formality and intimacy,
darkness and light, the tangible and ethereal -
where a sunset meets moon rising, black meets white.
Chill of evening leaps from the canvas
sending shivers through bone and thoughts.
Strange, how the long-faced couple steps
from winter’s ominous night, eyes upon them,
not disturbing the sleeping forest of naked trees,
searching for home or the inside joke of clowns and jesters.
Their soulful glow, one light with arms entwined, penetrates my heart,
shaping the beauty and mystery of Rousseau’s masterpiece.*
*Carnival Evening by Henri Rousseau
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