The sea and sky fall
Shuffle their embraces close
The light is bold and the fluff of the waves
Is smiling with a warm and smirking sense
That oh, she is a baby still.
I walk out some small footsteps
Try to understand these always-blues
Always this land.
And my feet are
Weak
Beneath it
I try to clear from my mind
The worry, out, the bill for colours and whites
For time, lock it out,
Make a small home for the fact that I know
How to
Give, teach, to say, sit with
My fear and my love
Let the heart grow wide
To match that sky
I can see its grace and I
Speak out,
Sit and strain and knit all up
Some sounds, sounds in my throat, spewed out like a tide
Of fears, a glottal
Stop,
Aspirations that say love,
That can speak to that sky
And now, I search my coves
For a way
To meet that laughing wave
To wade all at once in its wet embrace.
But those worry threads hang so dense,
Yet I scrub away,
Yet I am small, and in awe,
Small
But full of burning.
The sky will carry it off and up.
And I will keep weaving, and walking, and laying the way.
I know not how I am caught
In my shivering aches again, each starting day.
But with the sky I warm and swaddle them up,
Take space again.
Under the blue.
About the Author:
Bianca Black is a freelance Poet, Arts writer and Arts administrator currently living in South Australia. She is a lifelong lover of language, inspired by Robert Frost, Raymond Carver, Adrienne Rich and many others, whose words wrap around her little mind all the time. She is concerned with human relationships and our deeper nature, and the absurdity of life and fleeting time.
