Notes towards a Garden of Eden

In poetry we find
             an age of innocence
a return to the garden
             and to the first idea
when all was simple
             and honest and good
Belief in the immaculate
             beginning is restored
and wood-doves sing of peace

Poetry is before the fall
             and it speaks with the power
of tameless waves
             driven by the endless
shunt from ventricle
             to ventricle :
poetry is blood language
             in which the unabashed rose
may blossom with impunity

Poetry perhaps
             from the remnants of stars
from fatigued energies
             revitalized on the breath
quickens a new birth

Poetry feeds on the ashes of existence
             it resurrects dead thoughts
it drives them over the universe
             spreads fire
from its unextinguished hearth :
             among mankind it scatters
words from undead lips
             incantatory
it trumpets its prophecies

There are no withered leaves
             no shrivelled buds on the branch
nor will the stars be overshrouded
             by despair
Life is irrepressible
             so too is love and charity
and faith and hope
             and peace comes dropping
and poetry is the pulse

John Lyons