See Shanti
Written by Megan Leonie Hall on Tuesday the 27th of March 2012
Hope is a small boat..
I'm standing on the salt sand deck,
On damp scars; hewn parallel through devotion.
Rivulets of ocean,
Run under my soles,
Though I'm dry swamped in air here,
There are tears between my toes.
Legs stance wide,
So the kraken shifts,
Won't break me.
I will not fall off.
I know from whence I came-
Out of the intemperate drink-
Ubiquitous sea,
Just one droplet of me,
And a thought is a wave is a thorny cut brink......
I will plant rushes,
On the taut scored boards.
I will bring sea roses,
Carved out of pumice.
I have too long called out my siren,
So now my voice is a seaweeded whisper,
And the cleave where I first threw my dagger,
To haul myself afloat,
Is filling up with posies...
To the sea-owl and the fishies,
I have sworn my solemn losses.
This dagger is a tinctured dream,
Of memories from before.
There were dragons on the shore.
And I know there will be more.
My little ship cups open sky,
She has room enough for sailors,
Who have never once been swimmers.
She will find you in the water.
You will find her in your sleep.
Your palm will seek her belly.
You will feel her prescience swelling.
I can never leave the wheel, friend,
You must climb aboard alone.
There is time enough for singing,
Recall the songs we now know.
They all begin the same refrain:
"I lost my lover in a fire..
I lost my fire in a love.."
Notes adrift-
Sinewed harmony-
Fall into synchrony-
With the waves...
'In a fire....'
with the blue..
'In a love...'
swell against hull..
'Lost my lover..'
dragging the nets..
'Lost my fire..'
flocking gulls,
'I have nothing...but...'
hope is a rhythm ,
Splinters are holy,
As holy as thirst.
Rainbows are free,
To be unkept promises.
I wove the rigging,
With olive leaves.
Soon, in the crow's nest,
There will be doves.
M.L.H.