I see the hidden spheres which over lap our own,
not all of the time but there are moments,
of crystal clarity/
in the rain/
a sudden ray of sun.
There are places where the doors are open,
the tiniest whisper of a forgotten past,
previously/ I stood near one,
The whispering wood to many this overgrown,
tree choked with vines is a part of nature,
I have seen beneath the veil/ to a stone wall
An old mill my hands traced the stone work,
in the deepest shadows where man isn't welcome,
The silence was deafening/
I opened my mind to,
Vistas past.
A hard working miller busy grinding
corn as children played in the waterhole,
women busy drying clothes laughing at their antics.
I stepped back into the warmth of the day
the chill seeping from my bones,
I look down and see the waterhole now filled with -
sediment natures cruel touch has scoured it away
slowly overgrown as the angry waters surged past,
I walked onwards reflecting/
I played here as a child.
My path crumbles before me/
seemingly the ground smashed by an angry god
huge rents make it difficult
to cross.
I came to a tributary a place where I once waited for seven hours.
lost as a child frightened tears and snot smeared my face in the dark/
I waded across the stream passed the lying rocks.
Skipping across bleached stones the bones of mountains past,
I slowly approach the coldest of places,
The chill settling in I can feel your uncaring gaze/
lingering
hungrily/
your/
feminine form/
trapped in the stones which formed a perfect circle around you.
Our/
eyes meet/
I was but a child then/
you pointed the way back
for a price.
A single/
tear/
a promise/
to return
Did my mind play tricks?
did you really move to
stare?
wood rubbing against wood/
the cackling of a hag?
the ivy flowed like a/
mane of unkempt hair down your back.
A single ray of sunlight breaks the silence/
Bird song/
like children's laughter
soared out the moment passed,
I see you for what you are a tree twisted by a quirk of fate,
to a child's eye/
a feminine form/
languidly stretched towards the sky
pleading, placating.
I turn and walk away from the cackling tree,
I hear a peal of feminine laughter and run home
away from that accursed tree.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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