Sunday, 12 August 2012

The Power of the Word

The academy is gathered
Suited, ageing men going grey
Growing into texts, so bending
And swaying like overbearing trees
And those listening, lost in the forest
The frost settling on the ground
The cold biting, the dark deepening

The care only for ideas
Those of self and others who have threaded
Thought-waves of a similar ilk
Through the silver-surfaced mirror that reflects only
The image of Manifold Unafraid Man's Folly
Singular Wisdom waited a while in the hall and then turned to go
Weeping, as she locked the door to protect those on the outside

(written June 2011, after an academic poetry conference)

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