DRUIDSTON HAVEN

In the deep valleys tucked in between creases of land
folded earth and jagged ridges climbing high towards the sky
there is a hidden trail I follow.

I am strapped on and saddled
onto the body of a horse.

Phantom image, steady steed. I grasp the reins as it guides me
towards another bend, steep steps in the rhythm of click clacks
tick tock the sun is a lamp incubating the top of my head.

We follow the torching light illuminating the way until finally
the path slithers among grassy hills,
a stream running alongside us
scattered flower bulbs
splashes of sea
the scent of salted wind.

Perfect landscape
as if crafted for photograph or painting,
obscure enough for private collection
valuable enough for auction.

We gallop as a unit:
a picturesque image of everything the world should be.

Woman and animal
why is there no one else on this beach? No one else to join
this living dream I’ve stumbled upon.
I’m Alice in Wonderland, Lucy in Narnia—
where are the rest of us?

Where are the dreamers and the believers
the riders and the travellers? Stuck in an eternal sunset
perhaps they too were drawn
by the rapture of performance.

It’s just me and my Phantom trapped on reeling shorelines
and gently bowing underneath collapsing light.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s