I been walkin' the road,
I been livin' on the edge,
Now, I've just got to go
Before I get to the ledge.
So I'm going, I'm just going, I'm gone.
(1973 Bob Dylan)
The frog prince was laid to rest
at least two years ago -
inside a coffin of amethyst;
silken pillows for his head.
Wrapped in a paisley shroud
as fine as eiderdown;
surrounded by heart-shaped
boxes of molded glass and porcelain
filled with tarnished silver,
rhinestones, and earrings
who lost their mate.
Leftover pieces of this and that -
a love never meant to be anything
except a springboard to self-realization;
to venerate the heart’s growth,
the soul’s ascension toward the light,
the mind’s procession into midnight.
All this the prince wrought with
a claim of no intent. Shelved
with other lost and forgotten things.
And now -
there is another to be put down
through an act of mercy;
free the obsession and possession
of a long-regretted notion.
An icon yet to be found to illustrate
the cold blue eyes and lustful stare
beneath the actor’s revolving masks.
A billy goat gruff resting upon a Dylan song;
weighed down by a poet I could never be.
The Devil’s trump placed across the brow
to signify the long-awaited freedom.
A chant to mutter as the pieces are assembled;
carefully arrayed for this new ruler
of the closet shelf.
May his heart find its ease.
May his mind be clear.
May his feet be unstuck,
So he can move forward.
May his hopes flutter
From bloom to bloom
To sip the sweet nectar
And move on - move on.
© 2002 Melissa Songer