After wandering through moonlight,
the poet is born-again under the sun.
Finally the path ahead becomes clear,
garlanded with beautiful sunflowers.
By shining love and light onto words,
joy and happiness become her future
as she finds the courage to be herself.
Success and fluency her just rewards.
After thirteen cycles of the moon,
the enigmatic horseman rides in.
Death, life’s constant companion,
arrives in fetching black armour,
displaying the mystic white rose.
Remaining absolutely victorious,
insensitive to age, race or gender,
he harvests the souls of the dead.
As the poet goes up in flames,
the fire sways under the stars,
unfolding its tentacular arms
to hold tight the wooden box,
while, burning inside, embers
ignite the Soul’s cosmic eyes.
In the graveyard, kinfolk wait
with the hollow already dug.
Sad faces with twisted fingers
upturned to the shamed sky.
Dogs bristle with sorrow,
ready for the howl of death.
In a room where silence fell like snow
She pinned the number on her dress
Hours before she jumped
That silent Sunday afternoon
Inches and miles away
From the white chalk farmland
Where a sea of darkness
And steering winds waited
They loved how they had broken her
Made her their own
Once more herding her back
Into the seven-fold flock
Where this liberated sheep
In her post shepherd world
Had once defied the master’s crook