Dennis Lambert - Siren

The lady on the cliff—
I saw her every morn—
her golden hair
blown back
with the onshore breeze,
her blue eyes
holding the horizon
across a heaving sea.

Always I had wanted to know:
What was she waiting for?
And what was the sea to her,
with waves forever in motion,
tides ever shifting,
sea-moods singing so many songs?

One morning
quietly I came behind her,
smelling the swirl
of sea-wind fragrance
mix with the perfume
of wind-blown hair.

And, for a moment in time,
for a sea-spray second,
her hair touched my face,
and I could not move,
nor speak,
and time itself hung
like the quiet pause
between the tides,
and something there was
that filled me,
flowed into me,
like the sea.

Without moving
she wrapped delicately around me.
Her enchantment
encased my soul,
and words, my words,
could not contain
what held me.


I wept in morning light—
intoxication brought me
to the edge.

The Universe filled me,
and I knew
with one step forward,
I could fly from the heights
to glide above the rocks,
or dip and skim the waves,
or soar to the warmth
of a golden son.

In her embrace
I would die,
I would be born,
I would see
what never could be thought.
I would merge with a light
beyond my sphere.

Something there was
that broke the spell—
I know not what—
a gull’s cry,
or sea-droplets
cold upon my face,
or the crashing surge of the surf.

And I stepped back
beyond the reaching
hair.

Never again
have I approached her,
but often wondered:
“Had she been waiting for me,
or was she waiting
for Odysseus to sail
upon the rocks
to be her love? ”

She is waiting there still, my friend—
that mysterious lady,
and her touch... it will carry you.

Dennis Lambert

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/siren-3/