deepundergroundpoetry.com

Hymn to The Red Spring

As a child I often wondered
what Narnia must look like

sat disappointed that every
wardrobe door did not unlock
a world of lions and fauns

but I kept dreaming as every
child does of something
beyond this place.

Thought about it as I paid
for a ticket and wandered into
that mystical garden

amongst fountains
& lush grass

pink cherry blossom
carpeting a canopy

a curious tree with ridged bark
surrounded by shoeless devotees
pressing their heathen skins
against history and silence.

I paddled through a healing pool
hoped for a miracle
drank of the lion’s head

thought of Aslan appearing
softly through the darkness
that metaphor of a master
padding powerfully
through the centre
of everything pure

everything good.

I sat before Chalice Well
listened to the spring birds chatter
planted damp feet against stone.

When a Pagan prays,
it’s a curious thing

as if another world runs parallel
to this, with no expectation
of salvation

just presence

before holy water
sacred idols
ancient sky.

As a child I often wondered
what Narnia must look like.

I closed my eyes
still hearing the soft stride
of a beast-like God.