Saturday, 1 July 2017

Until All Wandering Ends




The pathway home, it splinters into 
warnings:
not yet.  Not yet.
So sorry to hear you cry
so sorry for the pain between 
your eyes
but now you know 
they are cold
they are cold

Because this is my human intervention
One more winter one more storm one more
repentance

Think of me 
when you taste the mist on the grass
the bark on the trees
And tell them
tell them all
I am as full as the earth
as empty as the sun
Kiss the sea for me, lovely
I am longing
I am so afraid

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