My Mistress Calls

a poem by Lady Shaula Salathe, Australia - poetry writer, author, poet

My mistress calls
In no uncertain terms
Not a voice to be ignored,
Though it is less a voice than a niggling nagging idea

She has been patient
More than patient, she says pointedly

But now it is time to start.

Not a question
Not a pleading
Not even a command, for commands may be disobeyed

No, it is something more ancient
From the very depths of the universe

Has she been patiently waiting since McCubbin finished here?
And Arthur Streeton - did she demand of him?

She has found me, although she has been whispering to me my whole life

And so it begins
A creating done at the hand of the mistress who will not be appeased
Not for a second
Until the work is done

And she will say when it is done, not I.

They used to say one HAD a muse, living in the walls.
Living with you, as an artist.

It is like that.

I do not expect you to understand.
It is an ancient reckoning….

[November 2019]

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