6th April 2023
The Earth was singing
And the sea was a thousand dreams
Washed upon the shore
And then re-embraced by the Great Mother,
And nourished thereby to a sky
Of hope, so endless and open and honest.
She, the sea, spoke in words i was not ready to hear
With a softness that made me cry,
Broke me into a thousand fragilities
And bore me back to my home again.
I was whole then and longed that the brave
Knight would never shatter on the shore,
That nobility would prevail.
But it got washed away with naivety
And i ached like the moon to feel the garment
Of freedom which innocence traces around reality.
Still the shawl slips, pen slips, the mask slips
And the face beneath
Is dazzling - a cornucopic serenade
To the eternal motion of music
And the terminal thread of my heart.
[sometimes, after watching a film or reading a book or listening to a piece, I will feel my creativity stoked and something will flow out of me. It usually shimmers with the colours of whatever the source of inspiration was. In this case, I had just watched Il Postino for the first time and it was in fact one of the first times I realised I could be a poet, that that was a way of engaging with the world. Beautiful.]
