Saturday, 6 July 2013




where is the still point
where the quest both begins and ends?

when is the quickening moment
when all is remoulded and retold?

the bird sings across the centuries

the bow on the string
the final note that soars and trembles

before silence sweeps in
like a wave caressing the shore

o when will it be told
today’s death toll?

when will it be sighted
the countless, nameless ones

desperate to clamber

ah home
a vanished point, no horizon

to herald nearness or belonging
or outstretched arms

but home – love has flown

tonight the wind whispers low

follow, go fast after
until you too rise



given in the taking
taken in the giving

where is the place that glows long after
everyone is gone?

when is the grieving moment to be lifted
from your arms and tossed into the light?

when is the darkness to be swallowed
by impending day?

silent wisdom stands a while
and traces her fingers around the edges of sleep

who could have know how solace would come
whilst wide awake and in such pain

and it becomes possible at last

to write a document of lightness and grace
create a symphony of one breath?



trembling in the evening breeze
the loss you thought incalculable

is counted in quietness
as the mist of self clears

what happened?

it was as if music filled the bodies
of all the dead

and the sun rose



the sea spread out
a carpet of deep blue
unfathomable depths

the hills rise proud
highest heights
above all else

the artist dives down
and reaches up
as strength fails

and light increases
upon sorrow
and sorrow falls

the rain comes in season
for fruit to be borne

and hunger to fade
with the growing dawn

6 July 2013