Cover the sky with your hand.

The summit of your palm is the moon.

Your fingers are  streams of stardust

sweeping through an  ancient dune

or  the slender branches of forked trees.

Glide them across the  desert,

over valleys,  the soft and sediment.

I am every woman you have loved,

their dynamic wings beat in me.

Recall my eyes as history,

you have lived here a thousand years.

 

art by Louis Treserras

104 thoughts on “a thousand years

  1. I just love this poem. How auspicious that it appears right before Alexandra breathes it to Cezare on her balcony at the Castle Razvan this weekend. You are more than gracious to trust me with your jewels and I hope to never disappoint. Thank you Rene.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Fabulous!
    Of course “Wild Rose” pricks me deeper, but what else should be expected of a renegade fellow blogger.
    I search the bullrushes for roses, the flat ugly dock weed for alyssum, the beautiful Anne’s Lace for nourishment. I search your poetry for more than I can say. xx

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Absolutely wonderful. “I’m every woman you have ever loved.” Oh, Holly. ❤ I am still following but I'm not sure this was on my Reader, so I'm getting your comments but maybe not your posts. I'll have to check again.

    Like

  4. Hi Hollie,

    There is one line in this I really like. I am every woman you have loved. I don’t think a woman has ever said that to me, but I have certainly thought that about a few women. They encapsulated everyone who had come before. I never told them, but I thought it and it made me feel very alive and present as if it was something more than mere love making. Anyway, this is my second comment on your poems. This is me, Duke Miller, at your service, as they say down here in Mexico. Thanks. Duke

    Liked by 1 person

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