The heat, it must have been the heat That teased and turned my steps That stepped a different thrust and beat A moan of limbs on fire where once were feet. The green, it must have been the green That cooled me in a light I’d never drunk That drank me in a way that drew a sigh Surrendering to what - before, I had not seen. Into the trees; I went within the singing My garments eased from flesh that needed air An airing of the need within my skin and hair With ending like a bell that needed ringing. That sound - a cry that led you to the wood To find me, naked, drinking at the stream The hand, that once had stroked now drew on flesh The nails inscribing paths of where I’d been.
©Stephen Tanham 2021
Stephen Tanham is a Director of the Silent Eye, a journey through the forest of personality to the dawn of Being.