Another Warm Safe Place
Poem from my old manuscript...
Whenever you feel alone, my love close your eyes, and know this truth how we are older than water on the sphinx, stardust reborn into infinite forms. On dark nights small details beckon recognition found unmistakably familiar, love remember once in ages past we fasted hands in a humble rapeseed crop field glowing golden surrounded in sunshine proud our ties knotted pulled tight and sure. Or so I dreamed. Should you ever need that warm safe place, we can meet there by remembering melodies you used to play coming home for harvest from sea fiddling for sailors. Near sunset I’d hold ear out to catch the first whispers of your song blown ahead amorous on the wind. Kicking off my sandals I’d gather my skirt hems so they wouldn’t hinder my speed, charge our oldest with stirring the stew and minding the baby, then rush out following fiddle strands barefoot over the lea to meet you at the hay shed just past the third hill.
So this is one of the poems I found in my old manuscript. I had forgotten about it. Not forgotten the inspiration, cause that’s often in my head, but forgotten that I wrote this poem about these ideas. There are a few stories in my head that feel like they’re from past lives. Maybe not of course, but maybe so, and it doesn’t really matter if it’s true or not cause it’s true about how I feel anyway.