writings 

stumbling into a dance

we stumbled into the clearing 
where the sun shone through sparse tall tops of trees
like swords gleaming
cutting through the dusty forest dross 
we stumbled into 
the middle of a moving sea of singing
the middle of a movement 
without beginning or ending
fenced off barbed lines giving way
to brilliant colour waves
of laughing  

and the joyful earth heaved
the hot breath of the living 
as the barefoot children 
danced in the present middle of the movement 
that enveloped the ending and beginning 
at the edge of the rough tipped north forest
in the clearing
where the bright light shone 
unrequited
a hidden sorrow
and the nebulous voice
the unwritten longing
the shrouded face 
I see the familiar shadow shape
shrouded in forbidden starch linen
the dress of the dying
and the thought is dying
the shrouded face and
thought are dying

choking back the breath
the life breath of the crystal young morning
when the mist lifted over the homeland
when the mist lifted over the heaving hills
and the dancing waves 

I see the familiar shadow shape
hidden sorrow
and the nebulous voice
the unwritten longing 

here now nonsubstantial ink
on a forgotten page
the traces
the remnant crumbs
of the beginning
broken in the breath of the saying 

 

momentary darkness


sorrow creeps across the banks of the east coast shore
like thick chilled fog
gold-dappled summer afternoon
and the calmed singing sea
now mottled grey in silent sadness
heaving aching

keep breathing
breathe in
draw in the living...

just now we were running bare-footed down the evergreen hill
just now we were swimming in the singing sea

draw in the living
fragrance of heavy salt air
hear the muffled hum of white canvas sail
pulled taut along the maple honey mast
press a finger to the trembling lip
see, still it lives
still we breathe

and this momentary eternity too shall pass away
as the sun scorches through this blinding mist

 

 
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