An Elegy to a Goddess

An Elegy to a Goddess

With naked feet and flowing hair like smoke,

She walks through the world, my goddess of Spring.

Each tender finger caresses, sprouting green

Shoots upon the earth. She is the master of life,

And indeed she has mastered it. You can smell

No fear upon her as she reaches the clearing at the end of the path.

Oh and what of this twisting, turning path?

To most it seems uncertain, covered by fog and smoke,

But she chooses to see only beauty, touch only wisdom and smell

Only wonder- she is my wonder, my goddess of Spring

Who caught all my dreams in her work-worn hands, showed me green

Leaves, yellow buds, blue birds and all nature, all life.

From my rose colored view, I know no life can match her life,

No strength pass her strength. She led us all down the path

Of all paths. If I could only hear her voice again, I’d spring

At the chance to ask her everything: How to see beyond the green

Poisons of jealousy, how to mend a broken heart, how to douse the smoke

Of angry words and celebrate each day? How to smell

The medley of the seasons and know each distinct smell?

How to know if I must take hold of my own life,

Or let the wind take it instead? Ah, but as smoke

Trails from an extinguished candle, so her path

Trailed away from mine. My muse, my goddess of Spring,

My heart feels winter and I can see no green!

Yet all the time you were with me, it seemed only green

Woods and blue skies. I hope to catch your smell

Upon the wind after an April shower. I hope the path

I walk in life is half as fulfilling as yours, and when the smoke

Clears and I see the way, I hope that the life

Waiting for me is one that will make you proud. Spring

Is the memory I will keep of you: The freshwater spring

In your woods laps down tiny pebbles as green

Bursts of shade make dark patterns on the grass. Life

Shone from you like the beaming sun, the world’s smell

Clung to every thread of your white cotton skirt as you stood on the path,

Beckoning me to follow. Dearest Diana, you are more than memory, more than smoke.

You are the tallest, greenest tree of spring.

You are the smell of excitement lining all our paths.

The thought of you is all I need when my life clouds with smoke.

I wrote this today- I'm surprised my first sestina ended up being so inspired and emotional.
I would appreciate comments- anything, from anyone. I've been feeling really alone in all this, even with my family around. Just knowing you're there reading this will help.