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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=476856" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Sister Lunacy</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">SISTER LUNACY </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Shall we dance, shall we spin and wheel, hesitate, advance, <br>stall and recover, whirl like maple keys, and blow <br>the ashes of the starmaps we burned like passports <br>out of the palms of our hands to shine like dandelions <br>on an eye to eye level with the light they bloom in? <br>Sister Lunacy, I watch you uprooting your garden usefully <br>and shaking the stars out of the clumps of grass <br>as if you caught Medusa smuggling diamonds in her hair, <br>and I say such is woman when she forgets to be aware of herself, <br>and the goddess comes down to earth with dirty fingernails, <br>a gazelle in rubber boots. And no flower of the field, <br>no planet in the sunset, no eyelash of the moon over a barn<br>quite adorns the twilight the way her numinosity does. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And I want to take her by the hand like a binary star system <br>and circle one another like two hawks in the sky <br>until the night cools and the loons pack up their keyboards <br>and the stars work the graveshift on into the early hours<br>of the forthcoming dawn as if the end of all their labour <br>were extinction in a deluge of light <br>that doesn't recognize any of them by name. Shall we dance, <br>shall we let the picture-music carry us away <br>like a word that hasn't hurt us in a long time, <br>shall we gather wild rice in the holds of our birch bark canoes <br>as if we were threshing jewels on the shallow end of the lake, <br>or do you just want to walk the Road of Ghosts with me awhile <br>and see what blooms along the way, sunflowers and waterlilies <br>opening up like observatories and prophetic skulls <br>with a penchant for looking at things the same way? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Sister Lunacy, be kind to the mandalas and paradigms <br>I bring you like dreamcatchers woven of spinal cords<br>like tree rings of heartwood, ripples of rain, the net of Indra <br>where you mark one jewel and they're all marked. <br>Or as Jesus said, insomuch as you do it unto one of these, <br>you do it unto me, and everyone thought he was special.<br>As if he owned gravity and everyone had shares. <br>It's a radical act to come like a sweetness to ripen <br>the heart of a human that's stayed green too long. <br>Just as you and I know madness is the quickest way <br>of never getting it wrong and if you're going to argue <br>do it in song, don't exorcise the answer<br>out of the person who possesses it and bid it be gone.<br>You can't post a bond against a ghost. <br>Myriad guests of the mind, but seldom a host to speak of. <br>And Sister Lunacy you speak as if you were letting <br>a thousand voices all at the same time use you <br>as if they had no other mother tongue of their own, <br>and somehow it comes across as what you had to say. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">So I'm asking you now. Do you want to dance, <br>do you want to bend space the way a body moves, <br>reshape the universe in its own image, abberate <br>a few wavelengths into falling out of synch like damp hair licks? <br>And I'd remember to remember that only horses sweat <br>and read your aura by the glow of the hot dew on your face.<br>After the last lifemask comes off, nothing but space. <br>Nothing but imaginative room to move as if there were nowhere <br>we needed to go and we didn't feel bad about it. <br>We just went off into the ongoing like everything else <br>that's looping and coiling its way through time, <br>a fragility of the air, caterpillars swaying in the wind <br>at the end of a fishing line tied to the allure of a butterfly. <br>Don't be fooled by the vertebrae, everyone's flying kites <br>at the end of a long spine when the air revs up. <br>You can see them tangled in the powerlines of their ancestors. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Sky burials without altars. Road kill. Cheap cremations.<br>The whole panoply of the tragically absurd. <br>But here, sister, here volcanoes still strew <br>islands in their wake and the birds keep arriving with seeds <br>and coconuts still wash ashore like prophetic skulls<br>you're free to believe or not, and the air tastes like emeralds. <br>Here you could mentor the stars in their myths of origin <br>as you made them up to honour some quirk in your character <br>and they began to speak of you as their dark mother. <br>And nobody need know what you mean when you spoke to me<br>about those things that encroached on your silence inside. <br>I know how to listen for dissonant sounds in the night. <br>I can hear the falling of a single eyelash of light<br>when the moon goes out, the footfall of a spider on the stairs.<br>Sister Lunacy, should I take your hand, shall we dance<br>to the picture-music that overtakes us unawares, <br>you with your dark tears, and mine so far in arrears? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">PATRICK WHITE</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Patrick+White">Patrick White</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=476856" data-title="Sister Lunacy de Patrick White" data-description="SISTER LUNACY 

Shall we dance, shall we spin and wheel, hesitate, advance, 
stall and recover, whirl like maple keys, and blow 
the ashes of the starmaps we burned like passports 
out of the palms of our hands to shine like dandelions 
on an eye ..."></div>
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