Shelagh Foster

Rookie (8 April 1959 / Cyprus)

The Spark - Poem by Shelagh Foster

If you are my other
and I am yours,
then what is this wordless state
reclining on soft spaces,
seeing through sharp vision
and lost in undulating hills
and rolling plains?

It’s there as we ease into love
and always in our touch.
It’s there when I make you smile
and you make me laugh.
And it’s not the joke or the word,
it’s the space that shrinks
instantly to a spark so finite,
so complete
that it becomes my everything.
It’s in your voice
that ceases to be words,
your skin that ceases to be touch.
It recedes to a world so vast
so minute, so perfect
that there is nothing.
Nothing but the moment.

I find it when I’m sleeping
and have to wake
simply to recognise it.
It’s there when you’re not there,
but you are in every waking thought;
when I’m delighted by rain
or a cool breeze in oppressive summer,
in the flesh of a peach,
in a line of Donne,
or a space, a moment when time
stands still.
It is there
You are there
And love is a word that doesn’t begin
to describe the spark.

I am lost in wonder
of the perfect beauty.
I am lifted in awe by the gift
that we bring each other.
No, our oneness is not a moment,
it is time.
And if love is the only word

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Poem Submitted: Friday, February 2, 2007

Poem Edited: Friday, January 7, 2011


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