Poem: "The Cave of Stories"
This poem has been sponsored by talix18. Thank you for your generosity! It was also sponsored by a prompt from the same source, about folklore involving beaches.
The Cave of Stories
On the island of Langkawi there lies a cave
made of limestone, carved into the northeast coast
by wind and water. It is the secret mouth of the beach,
known as the Cave of Stories.
You can go there by boat and taste for yourself
the cool salty breath of the beach
as it searches for your face like a kiss.
You can see the paintings on the wall,
older than ancestral memory,
and the ancient inscriptions laid out
like verses in a holy book,
too ancient and faded to read.
Yet the stories linger, told on the beaches
by the bluegreen waters, whispered by the wind,
laughed at by tourists but adored by children.
Long ago, China and Rome sought to unite
two mighty empires in marriage.
Dismayed by the prospect of so vast a state,
the great Garuda - the golden phoenix -
flew away with the Chinese princess
and concealed her in the cave.
The Roman fleet sailed to rescue her,
commanded by the prince and
championed by the ogre Merong Maha Wangsa
The Garuda defeated them, but in that wild fight
the Roman prince fell overboard
and the waters washed him into the cave.
The Garuda fled from the world, but although
the marriage was not prevented,
neither did it succeed in uniting the empires.
The feathers in the cave today are not made of fire,
merely the soft souvenirs of shorebirds.
There are no sea-fetched lovers there.
Still the cave recalls the stories, recounts
the old glories through the tourguide’s lazy yarn.
The paintings seem to move as you float past,
light on the water casting reflections up the walls.
Remember this,
whispers the floral wind as it kisses your ear,
some stones can speak.
The Cave of Stories
On the island of Langkawi there lies a cave
made of limestone, carved into the northeast coast
by wind and water. It is the secret mouth of the beach,
known as the Cave of Stories.
You can go there by boat and taste for yourself
the cool salty breath of the beach
as it searches for your face like a kiss.
You can see the paintings on the wall,
older than ancestral memory,
and the ancient inscriptions laid out
like verses in a holy book,
too ancient and faded to read.
Yet the stories linger, told on the beaches
by the bluegreen waters, whispered by the wind,
laughed at by tourists but adored by children.
Long ago, China and Rome sought to unite
two mighty empires in marriage.
Dismayed by the prospect of so vast a state,
the great Garuda - the golden phoenix -
flew away with the Chinese princess
and concealed her in the cave.
The Roman fleet sailed to rescue her,
commanded by the prince and
championed by the ogre Merong Maha Wangsa
The Garuda defeated them, but in that wild fight
the Roman prince fell overboard
and the waters washed him into the cave.
The Garuda fled from the world, but although
the marriage was not prevented,
neither did it succeed in uniting the empires.
The feathers in the cave today are not made of fire,
merely the soft souvenirs of shorebirds.
There are no sea-fetched lovers there.
Still the cave recalls the stories, recounts
the old glories through the tourguide’s lazy yarn.
The paintings seem to move as you float past,
light on the water casting reflections up the walls.
Remember this,
whispers the floral wind as it kisses your ear,
some stones can speak.