Earth, Sky and Walls

 

A cock crows, in the distance

And assures me that

Light will shine on this day,

As we assume it always will,

But there is no guarantee.

My hand lies soft against

An Empty space

And my fingers curl around

That space

Willowy as strands of cotton,

And hard as the truth.

 

But your smell lingers,

The Essence of the Earth,

And we all know,

The Earth is a Woman.

And if I am anchored to this Earth,

You are like this Earth.

Traveling endless miles,

But in a predictable pattern,

And always returning to the same space,

At the same time.

 

An old man pecks at a typewriter,

In the early morning sunlight,

And a dark skinned woman busies herself,

Against the backdrop of alabaster walls

And a Mediterranean Blue Day.

A vision that came before you.

Perhaps just a vision.

The old man smiles at his loneliness.

 

Why might beauty and grace frighten me,

Is it not what we should seek,

What we should know,

What we should breathe deeply

Into our lungs,

Like the musty smell of life and love.

The Essence of the Earth,

And we all know

The Earth is a Woman.

 

The Sun spins circles

Around this Earth,

Although we know the opposite is true.

But to admit it,

Is to admit our insignificance.

 

And you spin circles around me

But I know the opposite is true.

And you were gone,

Before I had a chance to admit it.

The Essence of the Earth,

And we all know,

The Earth is a Woman.

 

 

Kevin D. Burgess        Winter, 2002-03