(From The Paraguayan Harp)
Harp – cradle of the song – hand
rocking the infant tune – a fringed scarf
over the song for fear of sudden flight.
Contained in the sounds, the silence –
rainbow skin, mirror eyes – hidden
like sleep in a child’s brow.
Inside the silence, a landscape –
encircled by horizons, torn
by knee and heel – fields of slowly-aging people,
in garments of clay beads and stained glass,
hands raised against the sun, irises engraved
with the sharpness of light.
They dwell in the silence
in the belly of the song.
At dusk they bow, yearning
for the fringed scarf to stir,
the harp to quiver, the rocking be still,
the hand tranquil – at the song’s sudden flight.
Lavinia Andrei Jennings comes from Romania and has published poetry, poetic prose and reviews in The Bitter Oleander, New Millennium Writings, Pilgrimage, Cistercian Studies Quarterly, Clay Pot Review.