I dream delicate things

Deep Pool

I think your soul is like a deep pool at dusk,
dark not with sorrow, but with hidden gold;
an undersea kingdom of hush and turning,
where light goes down more softly than the cold,
and what seems still is only love made patient,
for those with eyes to see, and hearts to hold.

#vss365

She rose as if the moon had learned a pulse
and clothed itself in salt and breathing hair;

the undersea kept chapel in her silence,
pearls like prayers caught in her blissful care.

I saw her where the deep unfastens light
and made of following something close to prayer.

#vss365

Gentle Trickery

So I will kneel where dimness turns to grace,
And learn from quiet hills their wordless art,
That God may hide in all this gentle trickery,
And make His dwelling in the ruined heart.

#vss365 #poetry

By trickery of spring,
the fern is
but a green thought,
still folded from the dark;
the earth has taught it
how to keep a secret.

#vss365

green scripture curls
by trickery of light
a thought still coiled
in the throat of the earth

paradise kept
in a closed fist

#vss365

investiture of
safety
found
in another

#vss365

The soul puts on its bruised investiture of bloom;

God hides His tenderness in little things like these

pink smiles of dust still opening through doom.

#vss365

Decay is not defeat but
prayer made green and
patient in the earth,

and age,
in moss and silence dressed,
leans back without a word.

Thank you

Yes, thank you

Thank you ☺️

By green investiture,
anoint the waiting rock;
a gentle tongue
spending itself in moss, and

mortal noise grows hushed to hear a broken water pray

#vss365

green fire is laid on mortal things

I held a miracle

O sea-wind, do not name me; I have worn an investiture of harm.
O blackthorn, keep your blossoms: my beauty has no charm
but that which frost has on the field before it kills the green.
I should be left, a fallen nest, all hidden and not seen.

#vss365

Do not look long into me;
I am bright enough to bless,
and ruin, like the moon on a drowning water.

so fair the drowned moon seems when broken in the tide

Then I’m cast away like hawthorn flower storming from the thorn,
or like a small bird’s egg, chilled and cracked, in the bitter grass of morn.

Sweet friend, please do not meet my gaze: I grieve the gold I bring,
a poisoned spring made beautiful, a ruin taught to sing.

2/2

O pale estuary, hold your breath where the last light sifts through reeds;
my investiture was always made of loveliness and weeds.

I’m worn like evening on the water, soft, immense, and gold,
till my hidden poison kisses ‘pon the hands that thought to hold.

1/2
#vss365

between the wave
and the shore
rolls the seafoam
neither water
nor air
nor earth
where the soul
has always been
in the
holy trembling

#vss365

Seafoam

There at the lip of water, wind and cloud,
where seafoam clung like blessing to the shore,
my heart, so long a locked and inland thing,
grew wider than its sorrow, and no more

asked why the world must vanish to be known,
or why love wounds before it makes us whole ...

#vss365

Maybe you are not a person.

Maybe you are the part of the world
that loves me back ...
the part that left a shimmer
at the seam of what is real,
a signature in foam,
a rumour of a radiance
the water carries
from some other shore
i don't have maps for
but am walking towards.

And some impossible morning
the sea will hold its shape for once,
and what I saw
will step out of the water
and stand on the actual stones
and be,
at last,
beyond all seafoam,
here
with me.

#vss365

The old women along this coast
knew how the world is made,
not of stone and water
but of threshold;
a door that never closes.

I have stood at the edge of the known field
and felt the stone wall end beneath my hand.

The old ones knew this border,
that the world is thin in certain places,
that love itself is one of those thin places,
a gap in the rock
where two lights touch without meeting.

As seafoam is the ocean’s breath made visible and whole,
So art thou both the sea itself and my shipwrecked soul.

#vss365

So did my heart, long weathered into stone,
grow softly green beneath your patient light:
‘love’ is no thunder, only one small word
turning the whole grey estuary bright.

2/2

~~~
love
~~~

Your word lay down in me like evening rain
soft on the grass, and making all things shine;
the blackbird kept it hidden in his throat,
the tide received it as a secret sign.

1/2
#vss365