For me, irises figure predominantly as a symbol of magical creativity. Somewhere along the line I read that this was so, and so I took it to be.
One sunny day at the beginning of that first summer, my future husband arrived at the door with an abundant bouquet of irises just picked from his parents’ garden. All blues, purples and whites they were, long-stemmed and luscious in their joyful opulence. And was it just before or just after, my sister gifted me with a small journal on the cover of which was a most-mystical Merlin in his deep-blue, star-spangled robe, framed by irises aplenty? This was the theme of 1984 for me and not the brave new world of Aldous Huxley. Hence the nature of the poem below, originally lyrics woven into a melody, eh presto a song!
The Day of the Iris
Calling through rolled gold
and prairie blue
throwing all
caution to the wind bearing seeds
of a message to you the day of the iris
begins
The youngest borne
of twilight
with a voice
of gentle persuasion
tense tied tongue
unwinding
soft power
communication
Daughter of the Law of One blood singing
Earth song
heading to the House of Light would you care to walk
a little way along?
hey, would you care to walk
along?
Oh so shy
but also dazzled by spacious mind
and pure intent like Odysseus
and Mentor
such friends must be
heaven sent
Brainstorming
tumbleweeds rolling with reams
of rhymes and reasons
hungry now
for a flash of your feedback
in this
the blooming season
Calling through rolled gold
and prairie blue
throwing all caution
to the wind bearing seeds
of a message to you the day of the Iris
begins
© Anne Beverly Brown 1985