To the Lake
Only forward
My steps on the crushed grass
Uncertain as I close the gate
I move alone, my ears
Full of the sound of the clicking of that gate
A final time before this journey
For which I carry nothing on my back
A flow a wind against my face
The scent of the forest before me.
I will never return.
Only forward
Over pine and moss
A depth of air held back
Breath held as I pass
Atmosphere of stone and ancient green
Grey boulders tumbled
From an ice age of mammoths
Gone untold enfolded in
A roll of years
I move
Only forward
My eyes flinching neither to left nor right
My lamp, my heart, alone
Here, the earth silent
Smelling of worms and flowers
Saplings lean out, the forest
Watching knowing my intent
Stretching to scratch my eyes
My hands my feet
I stumble.
Only forward
Through the hollow dark
Kicking at roots; a column of light
Frees my eyes from their webs
To leave the glistening drops of night;
A door opening, a drift of hope
A sound of moonlight
On water, a lake
A cloudless mirror a bell
With a song I have already learned.
A still white hind stands beside it
Sipping, like the moon perfecting her rituals
Or a goddess waiting for death.
Breath After Rain
Pea flowers in the after-rain
small drops of cream,
rock in the breeze.
But I want to look without looking
know without learning
be without being born.
In a still moment
know the life of the pea flower that is mine,
hold still the clock hands.
It is all here
all here in the palm of my hand
the skin of my flesh
and the air and the soil,
the sky and the stars
pea flower and I
with all, one.
Arms of the Sun
All the best of me
hangs in the bend of a leaf
a supple green in and out
of the shadow
fine lines of a highway
to that other world of silence
the world of soundless singing
and all the ancient tales
of sacred mirrors,
when the gods walked
over the mountains
and in the falls fish were oracles.
The gods still pass by
but our eyes are misted
our ears hollow with
too much knowledge
and we see them only in dreams.
Awakening, our hearts are
amazed with joy, our arms are the sun,
with all the power of the gods once more.
Flow
Green
Deep in the green,
the flow of cool breath soft and slow
over my hands and twining round my arms
leaf stems that weave a blanket for my heart.
Buried down, deep
among the welcoming leaves
mysteries clothe my eyes in sleep.
Waking, no more fears, but only light.
Dream Street
Overlapped layers of violet night
in folds, lying heavy on the street
pour murmuring sleep into cracks of houses
rubbing at windows, creaking at doors
blanketing children who sigh in their beds.
Beginnings and endings in the gentle hour
muffled by the stirring night air.
Deep on the street a burrowing whisper
in the rustling leaves crinkled by cold
is lightly just heard, just above heartbeat,
round falls of half-thoughts left on the pillow.
Soft fog curling a carpet for dancing
Silently beckons for souls to greet
For the dance to begin on the long silent street.
three
sea haiku
in
the wet sand
indents
of toes
where
gulls have been
a
sea of milk
creeps
against the shore
early
morning kittiwakes
the
lakeside swoop of
black-headed
gulls
swedish
summer
Christina
Martin lives in West Wales and takes her inspiration from the sea and the
natural world, finding the magical and strange in much of life. Her
poetry has been publishes in various journals including Nature Writing
Magazine, Light, Presence, Wales Haiku Journal, Failed Haiku and Lothlorien
Poetry Journal. She has published two adventure novels in the magical
realism genre, as well as three collections of poetry, a novella and a collection
of short stories and a short book of meditations on nature.
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