Command Performance (a poem)

Brighid

"Write me a poem," my Lady says --
a bright command swathed in
dense, sheer light,
the burning tip of the candle I burn
in Her name.

The Flame is a Mystery,
a sacred sign
in the hands of the profane,
who never take the time to consider
the brilliance
beyond
the
illumination.

"I am a child of Flame," I tell Her
in my child's voice,
and I know the Mystery is only half-revealed.

To be the Fire and that which is consumed
To be the candle
and the match
and the woman who keeps the Flame --

Thus is She who commanded the poem
and the poet
and the dense, sheer light of poetry.

written 2/7/06