Veils


I walk this lucent pathway
With the shadows of
Myself
Between the bright veils
They brush my cheeks and soothe my
Slumbering eyes
My fingertips kiss their softness
On each side as I walk

Sleep is chiffon, melting easily
With almost nothing in between
The other side and I
The breeze wafts fluidly
China silk, crepe de chine
I am here
I am gone

The dream veil wraps me round
With a thickness I perceive
I can feel consciousness slide
Thumb and finger brush each side
Cashmere, suéde, broadcloth, brocade
In the stiff wind of vision, the dream veil shifts
And I’m holding on with both hands
Corduroy, tweed, canvas, chinchilla . . .
Batik, alpaca, cheese cloth, chintz . . .

I walked under stars
Where the past melted from the present
The present slid into the past
She left finger prints on my memory
Soft dreams behind my eyes and
Rustling veils of velvet, doeskin, Venetian point
Wafting lemon oil, lemon grass, lemon verbena

When all of the selves
On this luminous path, join breath
And mystery, memory and meaning merge
We will lift the final veil
With the beating heart of a bird
The veil spun gold gossamer
And behind it we will find . . .
A spill of fresh moonlight
And laughter
Like a fae blessing
In the deep
of the
Night


©Edwina Peterson Cross