Was it premonition
Or artistic transgression that
Made him paint his future wife as Iseult?
The assault on her senses could have forced the result.
Did he want a foreseeable quintessence?
Perhaps the intention, barely apt
Gave her a wished for, natural route
To make an elusive and feisty conclusion.
A greater gift than a home and a child
Allowed her to find and possess
A love nest, affording retreat
From the marital drought.
Diverse personalities join
In a changeable triangle
Socialism became the chosen refuge
From wedlock’s hasty ensnarement,
Inborn tradition, and watered ideal,
Allowing him to gather and seek ways to heal.
Fused in congruent principle, outright fantasy
With stark cherished certainty
Observed forever in beautiful tapestry
Patterns, within patterns, within nature, within swirls.
© HMH, 2022