Blossoms bleed in the churn of ocean winds.
Hearts die for want of flight.
Visions evaporate.
These are things you understand.
But one dawn a bird flew past your window
and by that simple act your heart opened like a flower.
Was it the faint summer-pink against the birth of blue?
Was it the distance?
Far enough that the bird took a long moment to pass?
Far enough to say that it was every bird in one bird?
Was it the wings of light flashing in the void?
Was it some cardinal link furnished by separation?
Because in the open palm of arrested time,
you felt, between you, a fine-spun thread.
Not slack or you would have missed it.
Not tight or it might have snapped.
What was it?
A transcontextual connection?
A deep unknowing?
Love?
This thing that left you lounging in the throat of every lily
on all the porches of eternity.
That was far away and long ago.
Yet you still use the timber of that memory
to shore up your misshapen life.
Stephen, your gift for speaking beauty, truth and soul is just so deep. Thank you for sharing. This last poem just communicated so deeply about the depth of our connection to creation and nature. Simply amazing. You can convey experiences I’ve had but can’t explain.
Thank you.
Thank you Liz. Very kind. That means a lot.
Stirring
Thank you adela.
‘This thing that left you lounging in the throat of every lily
on all the porches of eternity.’
Breathtaking. Thank you, Stephen
And thank you Laurie. You encourage me.
Yes, those sky blue eyes still mirror love that has the timber to shore up our misshapen lives.
Caressed by the beauty of this poem, Ray
Thanks so much Raymond.
“Hearts die for want of flight”
What a haunting line.
Thank you Tiffany.
Deeply, deeply moving – evaporating visions, yet something reaches across contexts … a misshapen life is shored up … I wept.
(I think this is one of your best.)
Thank you Sam. That means a lot to me.