The Door of the Voices

- jan-u-wine
Two notes up….

one

note


down:

The liquid,
quick-silver swift
voice
of a lark.

Like Light
it is to me,

Light,

running sweet,
slow, amber honey,
touching my closed eyes 
with haz’d memories…..

Light,

calling me
back
from the edges of
wandering.

How very like a dream,
(a kindly dream)
to wake thus:

sun-warmed ivory sheets,
(the colour, so like that of
parchment, that my fingers
reach, without thought, for a quill),

the gentle’d, delicate scent
of Spring tender in my throat……

the slow sound of voices.

Oh.

To hear voices again.

My hand clings to the crisp
ivory
of the sheet.

The music of their voices,
outside
the door,
flows into me.

I do not wish them to come in.

At least, not yet.

I only wish to close my eyes
and let their voices
run inside me,

run……

like the Sea,

easing, with its gentle pull,
the grief within.

Their voices
are like the tapestry
that hangs upon the wall:

laughter threading sorrow,

Light twined within leavened Dark.

As if to make an ending,

as if to make a beginning,

the lark lights beyond the window.

Two notes up

One

note

down.


The door which has kept me from the Voices of the World opens.   



(for she who loves voices)