Sunday, 28 September 2008


Nothing could pierce the iron balloon of your guilt
though love like water would rust your consumptive self-hatred
surround you, soak you, wear you down
lift up this burden on currents of compassion
and, taking your tears, carve its path to the sea
It would drown your fear in this great ocean
cover it with coral and anemones and pearl-bearing oysters
and the sea would reclaim it

I say all this, gentle as the night coming on
while the wind of your words, disbelieving,
scatters all reassurances; my tongue is torn away
and, standing at the eye wall of this tempest,
your salt on my hands for the first time,
I am bludgeoned into silence by the violence of these waves
With empty throat I reach to rise above them, redeemer
as you sink beneath the storm within

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