she has never sung to the sea

And the death in the sky spoke
Travel light
Away from eternity
~ Toward cradle, empty.

And the sky turned
Different shade of blue.

Mind storms pulled guts from clouds
Gulls ripped throats from ships –
Rained stones swept shale into lungs,
In peril
At edge of each breath.

As silence entered slurried
Mouths of Aberfan children
In the year nineteen-sixty- six.
Furled to each village, a cloud shroud.

What really becomes of the broken hearted?
Broken lips split by the maker of dreams
Sailing pillows from reservoir gates,
Aware perhaps,
Under water holds secrets of death.

What became of my friends
Stealing away into our dancing days
Where we would thief milk bottles
From steps & ‘next year’
Was a framing couplet:
A story to be written.
Not even a Christmas Card
Or late commiserations;
Behold,
A memorial at the
Foot of my stairs.
 
What became of my traffic light island?
Rush to danger Red
Go lightly thru’ Green
At Amber, stilled and stalled.
A pedestrian stops, waves
And passes me by.
Shore line fades and retreats
Back-lane lanterns
Drive me to unlit house.

That night, unholy night
We sniffed enough glue to stick stars together
My head asleep on furthest lap.
Dawn rage woke me
Discordant rhythm
Of seagull symphony:
Learnt longest walk home,
A path which has worn my feet to bone
From Seaside to Soho to Rome……

She has never sung to the sea.
Her clarinet heart rolls to strum
Of a tightly strung harp.
Bird song shiver opens a violin case
Releasing beauty and beastly desire.

Enthroned rose
Lies on kitchen table,
Licking twilight colours
Blushed, ambushed the
Dark armies of the hours.

Across town,
Metal sun sank
Leaving the harbour
Seeking comfort of warmth.
Moon bleached streets
Escorted by stray dogs, and
Burglars barking as hunters
Who become the night.

She has never sung to the sea.
On the ledge of sleep
The seas awaken,
Graced by her voice.
And the sea sings her
Song to me.


# ERULGCT 21

* Aberfan. This nation's most tragic natural disaster