"I was young when you came to me"
on getting the phone number of your Muse
May you wear something that makes you happy.
May you hear your muse singing.
May you bring a gift.
The Dream of the Shepherd (Der Traum des Hirten), Ferdinand Hodler, 1896
Muse
by Meena Alexander
I was young when you came to me.
Each thing rings its turn,
you sang in my ear, a slip of a thing
dressed like a convent girl—
white socks, shoes,
dark blue pinafore, white blouse.
A pencil box in hand: girl, book, tree—
those were the words you gave me.
Girl was penne, hair drawn back,
gleaming on the scalp,
the self in a mirror in a rosewood room
the sky at monsoon time, pearl slits
In cloud cover, a jagged music pours:
gash of sense, raw covenant
clasped still in a gold bound book,
pusthakam pages parted,
ink rubbed with mist,
a bird might have dreamt its shadow there
spreading fire in a tree maram.
You murmured the word, sliding it on your tongue,
trying to get how a girl could turn
into a molten thing and not burn.
Centuries later worn out
from travel I rest under a tree.
You come to me
a bird shedding gold feathers,
each one a quill scraping my tympanum.
You set a book to my ribs.
Night after night I unclasp it
at the mirror's edge
alphabets flicker and soar.
Write in the light
of all the languages
you know the earth contains,
you murmur in my ear
This is pure transport.
from Meena Alexander, Illiterate Heart, TriQuarterly Press, 2002
Creative Invitation
I love the exercise of calling in the Muse—She who bring the inspiration—because it liberates us from having to be the person, the personality or ego responsible for the act of creating (and whatever is, or isn’t, created!) A divine force merely wants to move through me? That’s much less pressure.
If your creative Muse came in the form of a human being, how would they look / sound / dress / move? What would they eat / smoke / sing / bring? Does your Muse come in an animal form?
Describe your Muse arriving and delivering artform / inspiration / vision / words unto you.