Arniston Poem by Charl JF Cilliers

I

A GLOW

Champagne-bubbling, the sun,
rising, spills over the horizon into the sea.
An instant alone
I hold it high in my thought:
bright bird, hovering
over the sea,
a while ago I was you
at home on high
till you plummeted down
in exaltation
to grasp that shape
that a moment before
was a movement,
a glint, a hint, an intuition.

II

INTERIOR

A moth hovers
into the room:
burr-blown
by a gust,
it spins slowly
over the gas-mantle:

the flame furs
quick
as a squeak
that blurs
into darkness.

Still edges
that trembled
a moment
are solid again.

Orange-soft
light glows
in the world
outside the windows
of the heart.

III

SUNSET

Walked where the sea
shattered rocks to spume.

Who is it who speaks
without rhyme or reason?

At my feet curled
shadows lap round

as the sun goes down
with a hushing sound.

Now the ear must take
what it can give shape

to. In darkness I stare
towards the sheltering rocks.

Think of the sun

that gives off light
though given none.