Darkness traces out its frail and trailing shape,
eloquent on dazzling paper in garden sunlight,
though sun nurses and enthuses,
fails to shrouding cloud-light,
returning redoubled in fierce dissolution,
cannot rekindle the innocent wordplay before
the ‘us’ was blotted out by a thistledown star
to make a flower doodle -
tears would have been more apt -
yet the shadow cavern behind the eyes,
abject emptiness, grief, grieving, riven with sporadic malice -
and it has all been said and even then
so futile is this sound of one hand clapping,
whose meaning was always the reminder of the poverty
left when the choric and spontaneous part company;
just a slow meditating release, letting go
can re-connect with the summer weave of other years,
after all, who had their own anxieties .
YOU ARE READING
Gifts and Shards Vol 2
PoetryThis is the second and final volume of 'Gifts and Shards'. This takes us from the second month to now well over three years later, though there were many C poems in the collections tracking the seasons. There are no similar stories!
