Summer comes to settle its weight on the southern hemisphere.




who am I?
a waft of waves
stills my breath

am I to be the words no more

open hand . . .
her call curls out from
the unheard
advent silence
speaking our language
my heartbeat
on mesolithic time
once more
heaven-sent . . .
vernix enfolds the word
whispered in doubt
midsummer night
the moon hangs about
like a suicide
oh the joy
dust from the big bang
in my lungs too
here we drown 
with our words
silent night –
a divine sadness
to be borne 
see these wounds –
God's creating word
in the flesh
in the gap
between breath and touch
all is hush
daughter buffalo
I too would die
to words
deep-down dark
the burden of self
yet to die
moon-lashed sea
no more what it seems
in stillness
a child washes away
from her death
word made flesh
the birth of silence
echoes still
no more mind
just the ebb and flow
of a sea