Last night my soul walked barefooted

Last night my soul walked barefooted
Amongst stars and left a sketch of wingspan
On my heart.
But today when I woke up it was shrouded
In thick morning mist.
So I had to take my life for a walk to the sea
To see it reflected there on bouncing
Silver currents heading towards land.

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In the feathered sound of the sea

In the feathered sound of the sea
I heard a glimmer of myself
Dancing with someone else
Behind a blue veil of years and distance
An unchiseled memory carved
By the tips of wings rose in the shadow
Of the sun.

Clouds rise from the sea

Clouds rise from the sea,
Something whispers in swirls of shining lies:
Moon after moon mirrored in shivers of blue.
A life has been poured tenderly into a watery mould:
The feather of a Sunbird making its way to the sky.
It is always that which leaves without a trace
That is remembered the longest.

I miss the ocean

I miss the ocean, the scent of it, the movements of the waves breathing upon the shore. I miss the blues and greens of the reflective surface mirroring the changing seasons from inky blue-black winter to clear sapphire to the softest cornflower summer.

I miss the rainy frothing autumn currents whipping up a storm. I miss the stillness of blue against blue with only white cottony dots, above and below, sailing on their way. There is nothing a beach or a black cliff can’t make better.

I miss the mooring poles, rusted orangey-red, standing erect on slippery slopes headed to sea. I miss the hexagon light huts with red hats casting longing glances at the starry horizon. I miss beach carnations, pretty Pinks, birthed savagely from stony cavities on barren cliffs.

I miss the sound of the ocean. Roaring forcefully, keening wistfully, or lulling soothingly, while polishing land and thoughts smooth and shiny. There is nothing better than being rocked to sleep by the ocean. Maybe it is the water in me calling to its twin, or the pre-historic aquatic creature longing for its origin. I am left to wonder.

But there is something about the ocean that moves me. Maybe it is time to move with it…to that island I have always been dreaming of…

Early summer morning

Early summer morning,
Young sunrise above the sea.
Where his shadow falls
Over the grass I plant my life
Like a cluster of moss
Afloat on wind-stirred sea,
Flushing without roots,
Weirdly softening when the edges
Of his silhouette leans against
My empty handed longing.

Like the sea

Like the sea:
A distant cry
Deep in my land-bound heart.
Like the wind:
through sea grass
Swaying in the blue fog
Of years gone by.
You danced
through frail memories:
A spring twig in the hands
of a wood cutter
Or a white stream of aurora
Twisting defenselessly
In the currents of the Milky Way.
You were left naked among stars,
Thorns of light like hoarfrost
Piercing the blue foliage of sea,
Making the sun bleed out
In the silence of farewelling screams.
In all this, the madness of the heart,
You were the beached ice berg
Shining green with coral rivers
Crazed,deeply,
Inside me.