The wan sun, he takes
no prisoners
In this, the
prolonged, painful, retreat
Forget that here is
the winter’s solstice
Dark makes Light all
the more sweet
A cup of cider, hot
in my closed fist
The drums hammering
like a heart
Here I am, sleepily;
seeking… soaking
Falling together, as
near as falling apart
The musician has his
guitar and pick
The poet has her
feathered pen
Play on! Just play.
Teach me something.
Warm me up, and
then…?
Here the charge: the
synaptic spark
The reason for coming
or going
Trying is the only
way of being.
Seeking the only way
of knowing.
The ice is a pure as
it is cold
Its perfection makes
it clean.
When you have tasted
th’ truth
You will know what I
mean
No place can lie even
when it says
What you know had
been wrong
The brilliant
electric aurora borealis
Does her dance. Sings her song
Up the shining steps,
to the holy place
There is where I
must, now, attend
Where I find me, in
aspects and shades
Where I find you,
just you, my friend.
by Nathan Berube
Words In Motion 2014
No comments:
Post a Comment