Here is my latest entry for creaturemag. My friend Katy and I had a very compelling late night visit to the West Hill recently. It was during the Super Moon and as we stood, cold and still, staring as the sea glimmered under extra big moonlight, we spoke about the sky and the moon and how we’re all connected and how we’re all made of stardust and how we’re all falling, constantly falling.
This poem is for her and it is for that night. Its all I could do to ensure that I didn’t forget.
I fall deeper into billowing sheets of grey and blue
anchored only by lights that shone once before
and just for a minute.
I scribble words onto sky and watch them glitter and drop onto ocean
and into your hands
finding it difficult to seperate you and it
so intertwined you have become that it seems unnecessary even to try.
As we stand before magic that exists not only in our eyes
I consider piling sticks
one
on top of one
on top of one
so you could climb above and see what tonight looks like from another place.
As evening breathes into night
and blue and grey part company for black
we pause and anticipate involuntary change.
Buoyed by our own design.
If music had been playing I would have danced with my eyes wide open.
Cosmic rhythms.
It isn't always easy to be brave.
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