My Lady’s Parting Song
From the shore her song floats with grace
to her empty room. In disbelief I cross
her thread-strewn floor. Her fine tapestry woven
with care and heart each day is gone. Reflected
in a cracked mirror is an empty shrine. Bowing
my head, I sigh to think she has glimpsed true love.
So sweet her song, no doubt ‘tis love.
Long I met her daily needs. Yet fate, graceless,
denied her heart. Obediently she bowed
her solitude in penance before her cross.
Only my mute smile and shadowed reflections
were her commune, just so each day was woven.
“With crucifix and cloth woven,”
she sings, placing each upon the craft with love.
She hangs a lantern on the prow to reflect
upon her river path. Dusk, with subtle grace,
nears, and she lights the shrine candles by the cross.
Then humming, carves her name upon the bow.
“Sir Knight, with mercy my heart is bowed,”
she chants. About the boat’s chain her fingers wove.
In a breath, she will drop it and waters cross.
She will release her weary shadows of love
stitched in her silken web and pursue brief grace
to see her world without mirrored reflection.
“Come I to Camelot. Reflect . . .”
I hear her fading murmur as the sun bows.
I see her hair lifted in a breeze’s grace,
and in my heart both fear and joy are woven.
By chance she glanced upon a face she could love
and seeing him, she found the strength for crossing.
She bore solitude, uncomplaining, a cross
I understood. Her patient seams reflected
soft hope. Any life is barren lacking love.
The softest zephyr whispers back from her bow—
her song, her scent, her heart—all interwoven
her burdens released, she journeys on toward grace.
“With candles, crucifix and life’s work woven,
Come I to lofty Camelot. Please reflect,
Sir Knight, with mercy, that my love is unbowed.”
for RWP NaPoWriMo Day 6
inspired by Waterhouse’s Lady of Shalott
are deer and autumn
still about New England hills
where she ran barefoot