On Wings Of Absolution Poem by Diana van den Berg

When I have dragged
my waking hours
past the marathon runner’s breath
and I can no longer rage
against repose,
I acquiesce to you,
and you float me
off my feet
and you sing the wind
through the branch dancers
and you draw leaf shades
over my eyes
and you paint my weariness soft, soft, grey
and whirls and swirls of shadowed blues,
and you close the shutters
on my uncertainties
for the darkest hours.

You miracle healer,
born with the earth
in the vapours of silence,
and in the end
when all our days are complete
you carry us all
through
the last archway

(2 January 2006)