Juglar / Juggler
(from Land of Rocks and Saints)
1
In the beginning was the word,
and the word was tossed in the air:
a dove over dark water.
It grew as it descended,
turned into tongues of flame,
each of them licking
at the listeners’ hearts,
tearing them apart.
Sleight of hand:
this deck of words, tossed skywards;
jacks and queens tumbling,
caught, tossed up again;
words, nothing but words,
this pack of wolves descending.
2
Lips part as words draw blood;
red wound of the open mouth,
a rose in spring’s garden
bears us down with crimson scents.
The spirit is trapped in its cage,
flesh and bone binding those wings
with their urgent urge to be free and fly ….
“… you would have seen …” he says.
And so we see: the sea, white horses cresting,
St. James riding over the mountains,
bone on lance point, spear bloodied,
Moorish chain mail bursting asunder,
El Cid advancing on his foes.
Words join with words,
become joint with gesture;
they plunge into our chests,
grow tight round heart and lungs.
Juglar: In Spain, the mediaeval juglar was musician, singer of songs, juggler, and general entertainer. The oral tradition still thrives in Avila and in places where the rhythmic and musical emphasis of the spoken word is still important.
rogermoorepoet 
This is indeed wonderful. I love how you take that brilliant line from the Bible, ‘In the beginning was the word’ and then run with the conceit. in the Tarot major arcana, the first numbered card (I) in some packs is the Juggler, though other packs interpret the figure as the Magician. One hand points upwards while the other hand points downwards, on the table are the tricks of the trade.
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Great commentary, Mr. Cake, and I thank you so much for it. It certainly adds depth to what is already (for me, at least) a “magical” poem. The five lines that follow the italics are echoed (a) from a Medieval Spanish epic poem (El Cid) and (b) from a fabulous Renaissance poet (Francisco de Aldana).
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Thank you, not sure how relevant my commentary is, my mind does wander, but great poem anyway.
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I am a Gerard Manley Hopkins fan and this poem has his compelling rhythms … ‘as kingfishers catch fire dragonflies draw flame’ … I love the modifications of well-known and not so well known phrases in the poem!
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I love Hopkins … another Welsh poet. I have drawn on him at times but he is, at his best, inimitable. Best wishes, and many thanks, Roger.
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Just exquisite, Roger. It is such a celebration of the power of language.
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Thanks, Tanya. Language is indeed a wonderful thing and it helps define us as human beings. “The spirit is trapped in its cage, flesh and bone binding those wings with their urgent urge to be free and fly …. ” I have just re-discovered these lines … I can’t believe I wrote them.
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They are beautiful!
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I think there’s a great big spirit tucked inside that hawk just waiting to break free. He was such a beautiful bird: about ten feet away on the back porch railing!
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I love that! The oral tradition is a wonderful tradition.
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It’s very strong in sung and recited poetry. The Welsh voice is very attuned to performance poetry, with the accent on the poetry, not just on the performance. Glad you liked it. There are some fine performance poets in Avila.
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