27 January 2009

the rawness of an angel - a poem by Tamara Friebel

If you like Rilke's work, you may like this delicious poem written by the lovely Tamara Friebel written in 2006.

Tamara and I are collaborating on the SUFFRAGI project for London2010= 4 stories of asylum seekers reinterpreted through Tamara's composition + Evgenia's dance + my video. (See this blog dated march 08 )

Tamara also did the soundtrack to my video SPEAKING THROUGH WATER which was performed in Vienna last year... (also on this blog)


The Rawness of an Angel
by Tamara Friebel 2006

the rawness of an angel in my heart

would leave her scanting to impart
(to solidify my soul)
removing essence from the whole
into a remedied portion
which hints at truth behind a veil
yet summons beauty to recoil
under the duress of weighted wings
I bow in deep meditation
And hear her holler where the angels
do not dare
but beckon to the caller
to draw near
to unbound and heave all disrespect
on a planet where all seething teeth are held
their solemn vows
and hateful rows
distasting future allies but those that
add a lie to lost respect

Oh draw me near,
the angel who’s mercy starts to quake and
heave the falling planet further from my wake
O treacherous self
you that aid a soliloquy
in a nightmare of grief
revoke your fury
and cast the gangrene limbs into the sea
spit the fire of wrath upon
the hateful hand which would
blacken in the fire, which would
charcoal its livid flesh
but never turn to ash
Oh grant me a resolution
in this marketplace of sorrows
where the beggars offer lonelier hells

to those who grant a tinkle of charity
without looking once at eyes of fear

I bowed down and kissed the beggars toe
for he cradled a truth
I had never known
and the angel swooped down,
where others never dared
her golden hand so human
bade me solace
an ancient kiss
that prophets held
to honour those whose fear had led
to sorrowful snares.

and I saw the field of sunflowers
burning in the sun
this was in the land before
the nightmare had begun
I stood prouder than the soliloquy
which forbade my spirit warmth
and heeded even less than stolen stealth
under a blanket of grieving health
and drinking odes to a paradise
where angels in disguise
have danced their grace
to my sorrows drenched
with sweetened tears of lace

Oh you beast that parades dishonour on my brow
smashing beauty in its stride
hurting me with vicious pride
holding me to the token crowd
where spits of scorn weigh countless tonnes
upon my gangrene hide

goading, you whip my heart
and tearing it apart
you find a mysterious charm, a golden harp

a sculpture whispers secrets to me
of ancient warmth, of prophets old
and she takes me in her arms
and shields me from an evil fold
I am tangled in a love so fair
and suffocate beneath its fear
and only ask that I be held
until my breath repels the Void
and feels its depth, the still unfold

surrendered grace
foretells the fears
and bathes its alms
in thrashing seas

of little girls we know their ways
of roses red, and violets blue
of hunted hawks, and violent pews
beneath they bow
and take their vows,
surrendering till their hearts
are sour.

and pity to the world
that made the girl
Repent her soul

and pity to the herd of thieves
that landed thrashing on their knees
their futile health
and slippery ways
all ransomed to a stolen sway

Tamara Friebel © 2006

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