SCARLET WORDS

Fresh with showers a south London morning,

sodden yet unbowed, drips sparkling tears.



Yawning, the earth awakes eager

to sunlit shafted cloudbreak;

stirring growth, emerging complex,

slow as a lucid orgasm.



Flushed from my bath of vanities

to learn of thoughts beyond imagining;

there, in simple knowledge of

your breathing, seeing, hearing arrival.



Returning steps: the raindrop details fall

and break on my ears as gravel underfoot;

but I taste only the echo

of questions tumbling in our breach

with an urgent touch of resistance.



Who lights the fire of conflict?

As half-forgotten, huddled round,

innocent embers bittersweet choke;

and spark new flame – it burns

beacon for the change you bring.

 

 v. 1982