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Jan Porter

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Treasure Seeking

And when we reach that place,
how shall we know it?
Hope has delved too long under cold sand,
under dark cherry trees -
between bright pages of a nursery book
abandoned at an open page.

Hope has fierce rattled its cage,
screamed at the world,
snuffled in corners
for the failure to Be.
The palace, the harbour,
cradling of a woman’s arms -
let loose, unchartered
beyond life’s shifting.

Alone, we sang our warrior songs,
harpooned desire,
netted the unknown
in see-saw dreams.
Nirvana or Heaven;
for some, only a calm wood cabin
on a lullaby evening;
for others, the end of suffering -
lights threading darkness.

And when we know it -
what shall we do there?
Can we repair the Past -
kaleidoscope our journey?

Surfacing from albums, suitcases,
will we be new explorers -
palms and feet wiped free of dust -
Re-born?

 

Page(s) 55

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