I lie
in a bed
of bluebells
one hand flung outwards
as if I were
a Shakespearean
actor
the other clutching
my heart
a mellowdrama
a puppet kind
with broken strings.
The sun
kisses me
as if it were
my lover.
Trees
poplar trees
print themselves
in a frieze
on the edge
of my vision
upon a sky so
blue
I could almost die.
A synchronicity of birds
a serendipity of birds
sweeps forwards
& backwards
delighting the brilliant
blue.
I laugh
inside my self
because my voice
is choked
with blood
on every word
my heart beats so
fast fast
then so slow
s l o w
somewhere in
a distance
a battle rages
now somehow
passing me by
my horse
crops the grasses
chomps
bluebells.
He wears
my blood
and a little
of his own.
I lie
in my bluebelled bed
& try
not to die.
Blood like some
delicious wine
oozes through
my fingers.
I am aware
& yet unaware
that it is
mine.
I hear someone
crying
realise suddenly
its me
as darkness
the darkness
...gathers.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A TEN-der poem for one who is facing darkness (in whatever form that darkness comes!) Peace is what I find here, and yet, courage to face...whatever that darkness brings? Wonderful writing, and thank you, my dearest friend, for the dedication.