The Sirens
I am one with the sirens
singing down the avenues of the night,
taking water to whatever is on fire,
bringing breath to whatever threatens to expire.
I am one with wakefulness, vigilance,
one with the sea
and the rocks
against which I crash.
I am the rock, sometimes
the rockslide, sometimes
the sand— rock pounded
by my own hand,
sometimes I am the crash,
sometimes the victim.
*
Betsy Mars is a prize-winning poet, a photographer, and publishes an occasional anthology through Kingly Street Press. She is an assistant editor at Gyroscope Review. Poetry publications include Rise Up Review, Anti-Heroin Chic, New Verse News, Sky Island, and Minyan. She is a Best of the Net and Pushcart Prize nominee. Betsy’s photos have been featured in RATTLE’s Ekphrastic Challenge, Spank the Carp, Praxis, and Redheaded Stepchild. She is the author of Alinea and co-author of In the Muddle of the Night with Alan Walowitz.
Oh the paradox–that we can be all these things, even at the same time. ❤️
Thank you so much, Rosemerry. Yes – I want to be purely the one thing but have had to accept that what I think of as “pure” is not really achievable, nor even desirable. I am trying to accept my own flaws and humanity as I accept those in others. It seems to be taking me a lifetime!