an ark of a dream
the looping shape of an ark born of a
child’s imagination
the tail of a fish the head of a bird
a cradle floating in
the open sea with prayers and candles and
dreams that fly lovingly
charmed for a safe passage through to the land
of the millions of years
a lifetime perhaps to build this looping
shape of an ark sturdy
enough to keep me afloat whilst my
unborn self navigates
the rocking darkness befriends the creatures
in the deep pierced by the
light of stars that can see the impossible
shore draw near the miracle
of me being born in the land of the
millions of years
~
the lichen and the rock
I took a thousand pictures of
lichen growing on rocks wondering
how they managed to know to put
that mint green next to the gold
so enthralled I was by their art
I asked if I might join their tribe
being used to collaboration
they agreed to give it a try
(taking a peek no doubt at some
of the rocks in my mind)
it feels like joining a movement
being taught how to lichenise
this dissolving of certainties
seems never to come to an end
it is a wonder to find odd
colours combining in my mind
improvising
searching for the spaces between
alive and not alive carrying
strange bacteria as start ups
now when I wander these rocky
hills I take a gift of coloured
glass to place amongst them just so
to see if they might do something
they have never done before to
bring it alive or sometimes I
leave one just to surprise as thanks
for the blessed living soil
~
a line
there is a line that draws itself between
a mountain and a lake an original
and a reflection an experience
and a recollection
the mirror’s edge between
an unshaped potency and a new imagining
a line that sings with living current
like a wire conducting its messages
to and fro
a call and response between
what I could be and what I will become
this line of an incoming time
is this line a path I can walk?
it appears then disappears not with
the light of the day but with the attention
I am able to pay to its messages
I begin and I begin and I begin
to live in the present for it cannot
abide elsewhere
it draws itself as I walk
this line of an incoming time
I begin and I begin and I begin
each step a revelation
~
Feature images by Jackie Henshall
