Tuesday, 27 March 2018

Peccadillo

by Giovanna MacKenna

There was no place for my words
no space where I could let
them loose, they had no
shelter but were chaotically
unleashed to the mercies of
uncomprehending stares, bitter
gusts of green-tinged winds

I heard a tale of truths
spoken in a wood-lined
cradle, words cherished by
the soft lapping of reed-soaked
swells, a fire glowing on water
as ready ears gathered-in
the inky sprays of others’
lives and held them dear

This, is a liminal place where
elemental forces mix
water, fire, wind ignite with
the earth of our courage.
This is an ‘other’ world
where words and friendships
blaze upon the water, a beacon
for those whose bodies
pulse with unquiet echoes

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