I sat, still. gut wrenched, holding.
Nib to parchment scraping. cutting.
tracing veins that would no longer quicken.
until I vomited you. out. bleeding the past. the way out through the buried box.
contaminating the air. singing
as a newborn.echoing through the darkness.
afterwards. raw. eyes wide. finally awake.
flooding, senses heightened.
I knew. I was alive.
©kbain18.
if I could be anywhere
I’d be bare, foot
sinking in soft selkie sand. cool surround
calm mingling. lying shore still on childhood down.
north sea roaring rolling over — me
gazing at night sky overhead. a star
with no name yet — shooting across. lighting the way,
offering hope. winking. me
assimilated in breeze, contemplating drifting,
driftwood underfoot.
gull soaring through ages, times past horizons.
the rise & fall of fishing boats,
on silver seas.
the vastness
of our — lost connections.
©kbain2018.
my father reached out
spoke to me in the instant
before death,
lost inside the earth cores deepest
sleep, held inside the silent
mountain, i held his
hand. sing out. life is all
reaching, if you’re doing,
falling, failing,
getting up. living in the
joy & inside the saddest river.
life is present, being.
inside life’s pain
we stretch to live, all trying,
lost within the dying & the ends.
mute swans sing out
in their dying moments.
a story told in days, reaching
into tomorrow, carried on
from otherworlds,
upon the backs of birds who travel
in between the song of sound. the song the
living cannot hear unless we dream.
birds speak & understand the minds of man.
we have travelled together,
watching inside darkened
centuries of history in
muted communication,shaping time,as
shifting sound. listen. the dreaming
understand the song of death,
the journey into the screaming universe.
the shifting shore where our first words
were song,
held within the blink of
night hawk eye. swans sing inside
their joy to die, they
call out to the darkness that sings to
them. i heard my father
in his dying breath. his song of loss, speaking forgiveness, a song
of pain. the messenger walks
between the sound of worlds, he
whispers, listen. know in recognition,
the going home, the roaring dawn ahead. the end is the voice of understanding.
©kbain2018.All Rights Reserved.
do you have to know
a language,to understand
a song.heartache in the loss.
sadness inside melancholy.
love,within the light,
reverberates. nature’s echo
ripples over the landscape
of unspoken trace memory.
inside each raindrop life’s river
runs.the stag hears below
the heather.below the ground.
below all sound.blood pumps
within everything.inside every
flower that blooms
shoots
the newborn song of life.
©kbain17.All Rights Reserved.
for as long as memory,
i have stared at the
exit. a glow-worm radiant, switched
off and on
in mind. it comforts me.
calming my thoughts, scorching
past the c r i s s
c r o s s landscape of
the never[mind].
only i hold the key
that opens that final
silent room, inside the box,
inside the house of me.
i lived there,
once, safe. inside that room,
absent of thought,
inner silence
runs as the ice river.
washing over me, subduing, submerging
my tears. i am smothered under
molten earth. in that land, pain
lies down, & sleeps forever,
and all the fractured
pieces lost along the way
reassemble. i radiate onward
outwith the sun. the mirrored river
of life flows on, softening
the embers of the flames
inside the burn.
the soul will finally – be.
in memoriam, i can return.
©Copyright Karen Bain 2017.All Rights Reserved.
I walk towards infinity. how good to
finally be one with all in me. to lie down,
in cool rained grass. to seek no more.
to lay my limbs among the roots
of trees. s t r e t c h i n g o u t the dusk
filled sky. to bleed forth dreams,
into the sap of man. let go, to breathe
to die. death as journey,
the withered path inside. returning.
recognition, under towering oak.
connecting roots, that flow beyond coming spring,
return us to the blood of life. the beating
damp earths soothe.
we whisper memory into the wind,
as overhead, crow flies free,
awakening earths sunrise.
©Copyright Karen Bain 2017.All Rights Reserved.
