Saturday, 13 February 2016
Sunrise, Stanley Ferry
The earth here is ripped
torn and split
and the water pools in its wounds like blood
so flood-ravaged and washed out
that walking the paths feels like further violation.
My awkward and tentative steps around
(wishing to do no greater harm)
remind me of the gentleness of hands that moved across my own scars
old and new.
I hope for beauty
And see the flaws
Focus on defects
Down where the past has made its mark
But turn the corner and when I look up
glimpse greenfinch and wren
blackthorn in bud
bullfinch through the willow
and glint of sun on the navigation.
And I think
I still have so much to learn.