let me look into the mirror
until I see your beloved
as my own

In memorium of an innocent soul

My God
what have I done?
I have wounded the heart
of an innocent soul

where can I go
with this black burden of grief?
how can I atone
for your weeping wounds?

The clouds have closed in
and the storm stirs a dark brew
the waters are rising
and the thunder calls me to my knees

My God,
what was I thinking?
whose poison chalice
did I drink?
I have sought violence and murder
there is black death within.

I surrendered your promise
to the spin of a shallow man
that danced on your grave
for the applause of his addictions.

I distorted your melodies
I lied with your mouth
I took a life's promise and polluted it
like an emotional prostitute.

Oh, precious soul,
oh little spark
let the flame come again
in the beating of your heart.

Oh innocent soul,
please return,
Oh heart set him free
from the oppression of anger
that I've directed at me.

these brooding hills.
furrowed angry brows,
with heavy lids
glare at the waters
as the boats skulk by.
even the ripples are subdued
whilst the wind hides from the grey.

dark cliffs,
their colours emptied
into the shadows,
impassive and sullen.
they stare me down,
and i sink in the cold empty air.

the water laps lazily at the stone wall,
limply bringing in the tide,
blackened like soot scattered on a sheet.
the jetty, pokes it's fingers into
this cold and callous waterway,
standing on it's wooden legs
old trees that have been banished from the warm earth.

I shrink within my space, high up here,
behind the naked trees.
I draw my soul around me
and wait for the night.
only the birds have escaped the drabness of
the dimming day.
they fly, with a flap of wings, squawking their taunts
at the earth below,
and we bow our heads even lower
as we remain rooted to the ground.

I am caught in the colours of the day
as clouds wander the Australian sky;
sheep, heavy with wool,
unshorn and unkept
in their field of blue.

light dances across the trees
a khaki stage
dressed with shadows and sun.
and the hills weave,
rising and falling
above a waterway
restlessly painting,
in reflection and ripple.

my space fills with the songs of the sun
as she rises and falls
the land glowing beyond the window.
life reaches upwards
straining to lift limbs
higher and higher
cheekily playing with neighbours,
sighing, singing, swaying
free.

but, I must put away my words ,
stiffened brushes,
brittle with colour,
discarded, dry.
the sun has caught the rain
and together they hover,
an angel, an apparition,
I am overwhelmingly graced
and, ceasing to be an artist,
I become
humbled
and
childlike
and
silent