Sylvie Eastwood

Sylvie sent me this poem after 9/11........

New York - America - The Beautiful

All night I sat watchful, wakeful, excitefully fearful

Anticipating ultimate in city euphoria.

Jet propelled humming from glitterati angel (Los Angeles)

to stone Apple with blight

Our town-lighted bead path to Kennedy landing

15th plane on conveyor belt through mouth of the beast.

5a.m. lush sweeping through Central park greenery

with "White Russian" cabby

(slick suckering green tourists)

"Go to sleep" "Go to sleep" "4 days to see it"

Incessant insistent honking to play

Hotel "El Cheapo: in the core of the pip

Green peeling walls and a bed that talked rats

Scritch, scratching roaches "Can't you hear it?" "That?"

"Go to sleep" "I just can't!"

"Oh my God" cakes for breakfast "No thanks"

Algonquin, Hypodrome, 42nd Street and weanies

"Oh, you've got a cute accent!"

"Where you from? Noo Zeeland? Aha!

Did you have a long drive?"

Their language retaining Irish and Jew

Uniquely resonating with floracious Italiano

In joyous exuberance of San Genaro feast

Clams in the half shell and wonderful sausage.

This towering maze of Electric City labyrinths

for ants with intent

All knowing where they're going

and laughing and loving

and hating and loud and honest

"Hide your rings, they're shrewd in The Bowery"

So young to be sleeping out here in the street

looks 18, like my own son. Deflowered, dead or nearly.

Woman of 30 transposing a symphony -

Sunday morning, privately working at home;

in a washing machine carton, on the sidewalk, in the dust.

Graffiti on FT trains, a thing of the past.

Skyscraped tennis courts - ball-retrieving hell.

Impacted columns of Punakaiki Rocks (New Zealand)

each lit with ant workers attuned to their clocks.

Such gold on that 'Rocker Fella' and mould at 'El Cheapo'.

Museumic delirium - to the inth of modernity

and the depth of depravity

"Be careful" from the cobbler,

"A prayer for you son"

"What's this, already? A Kiwi coin tip/

"Wha'd I wan wid dis? Me! A holiday to Noo Zealand!!

Who's gonna mind the store?"

All the while wailing, with wailing accompaniment

of sirens honk constantly clanging in canyons all hours

Bargaining banter and drag home the spoils

back to the lobby on El Cheapo (creepo)

(State-house green slimo!) Rush in for a pee

Amidst all this sophistocat clamour

I carry now forever in my heart to you in this place

Be always as you are

For you are my creation

Pre-destined you to be

You are precious

Lunar Eclipse

You call me out of sleep

waking dreams of ultimate temptation

A marrying man with all the money in the world.

On St Michael's Moon.

Three moons - gold, white and blue.

Held in His hands, St Michael's golden hands.

The time to awaken is now

Point Zero.

Energise, apply all you have, without alms

Out of this poverty

this simplicity, this emptiness

Only God can save.

Co-create with your willing heart

This threefold Host of Love

held in the form of woman, the moon

The Madonna with no arms.

Lunar Eclipse
Woman eclipsed
Overshadowed
Her lightness thwarted.

Nevertheless
She is wholly light
She stands again.

Tree of New Life

Put my feet where You say
Train my eye as You see
I'll lift my heart
Be Your willing hands

Faith full woman, lover of life

Each one who comes to me
Your image that I see
I'll open my heart
Be Your loving arms

Gentle woman, lover of life

Trusting with certainty
Welcome my brokenness
I'll give my heart
Be Your hands of peace

Tender woman, lover of life

Laugh at my poverty
Stand in eternity
I will be free
Be Your lighted tree

Laughing woman, seed of new life.

Copyright Sylvie Eastwood 3 September 2000

The water
heals your heart

Sing to me

The end of your journey
is near. Let go
for the pain and
fear of those
that confide in
you. Open your
heart. Sing
and feel God's
Golden Gate
open up for
you.

God, please open for me this Gate of Your Freedom,
Your Truth
Let sorrows be transformed in Your compassion
You put Your sword in my hand to cleave this bitter
wrath
Between woman and man, between mother and son
may You dissolve the line of hate
In Your veil of redemption
Be present, truly present in me.

The Heart of The Rose

is a child's happy song

Golden curls bobbing

as he ambles along

caught up in his world of

bananas and stairs

and play dough

and big chairs

and giant dog stares

Drop...

dropping angel dew in adult lives jaded

Caught up in reality