I set out to re-conquer the remote islets
of my childhood
With no other guide than homesick tears.
It was like poaching happy memories
From a seagull’s empty nest
With wings obediently
Following the soft pull of the salty sea.
There is a sense of oldness in the air,
As though it has been impregnated
With tenderness, delicacy and wisdom.
Ghostly peaks, partially hidden
By knitted webs of thinning wedding veils,
Worn out by generations of stone cold brides,
Remind us of old newness and peaceful departings.
Spring’s forest school alumni,
Ready to embark on their virgin flight,
Darken the air with insecure strong-born wings.
There is the sound of rain falling into lakes
And souls slipping into sunsets,
As though leaves were attached to their backs.
And mornings to come,
With night-trees feeding on shadows
To part ways with the sun.
We can look at each other
From both sides now;
Letting the distance between
The me in you and the me in me
Knowing so perfectly
Each other’s geography,
We can pause to stay comfortable
In each other’s silence,
Leaving the lights to burn
All through the night.
There is a galaxy spinning
in the darkness
Behind my mind
Unrelated to any thought within
Just a million transmitters
Crashing like stars on fire
Into my subconscious dream vision
Igniting my soul’s desire
To find home.