1. The tide comes in, swollen,
inching over rocks. Here, the full day
meets the broken day, and the hour, full of light,
holds the sea in its arms. If blue is hope
it is all around me.
2. In this frame, there is more weight on one side
than on the other, surf pounding
off rocks into openness,
spaciousness, so that in the end
one is just beginning possibility.
3. Let’s believe, in time all desire reaches it’s goal.
I wear my loose and beautiful dress
After the storm, water shows itself
unbearably tender, haunting.
4. Honour, relinquishment.
I plough soil again and again.
Who doesn’t want what’s underneath?
5. When night comes, something speaks
from that soft, fragrant wilderness.
It says, the heart is not a door. But it opens.
We feel in the dark for the hinge.
The body, our great ally,
knows what it's here for.
~ from In Cannon Cave (Brick Books, 1997)
