Charl JF Cilliers
Stranded On Shore’s Edge - Poem by Charl JF Cilliers
The south-east wind sends scraps
of the world to my door;
distorted lamppost shapes,
ghostly hunched forms, explore
the world around me in hollow gusts.
I am an object of scrutiny. There are
in this remote place no welcome guests:
what belongs here must travel far
from almost forgotten places.
This is a murky world cut off
from the warmth of familiar faces
and habit or ritual or comfortable love.
The south-east wind sings only the driest
of songs and the small rain cannot rain down;
absent calls of birds cut deep
into empty air: nothing is where
it belongs; nothing takes definite shape:
formless sounds and shadows surround
me: it is the need to know what they are
that keeps me from leaving here.
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