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Jill Bamber

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White Noise

Some say it’s endless night,
no moon, no day,
but can you hear my working hands
tug weeds away?
Rosa-rugosa trowelled in
smells apple-sweet in rain.
You loved to sleep.
I rested in your shade.

Here cemetery men
in masks, with strimmers,
raise storms of grass
around these close-packed graves.
My broken nails,
embedded with your clay,
take nothing home...
You ride the water’s tail
and twist away.

Some say it’s white,
the tunnel’s eye, perpetual light,
an Arctic summer’s day.
Is God white noise
or does He sing
with indigo, Payne’s grey?
The torture game is played
with endless light.

This is the field
forbidden to the angels
and Jesus hangs his head
behind those trees.
Sleep here in peace
the long sleep of the Jews
with that essential star
you lit for me.

 

Edgar Alwin Payne (1882-1947): American water-colourist, noted for his deep grey skies.

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