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And shall I take a simple shape at last,
like these pale sisters, silent, still,
regardless of the bluster of my sea, my hurricane.
Poised jewels, beautiful and smooth and cool.
Who can break through to their mystery
and find the passion breathing
in the wild woods of their meek design.
They are the fury and the rage of the beginning,
blazing at the back of Time.
I am a tendril, naked with desire, searching a hold,
invoking joie de vivre
from the thin crack of the light.
A guest today,
tomorrow sea-
or something more I do not know of yet,
although I think I knew of it before.
© Wendy Bardsley 2014
