Archive | September 2017

Mystery like a forest

Mystery like a forest

I am writing this because I was at a  poetry festival

as an administrative background body

and then the one morning chewing peppermint gum

which settles the tight chest cough

I bit my tongue

badly and blamed the gum

Then just went right on to have

a

solitary brunch of a market philo veggie bake heated in the microwave

It tasted of a lot of ginger

and a lot like blood which is odd because I never eat anything that bleeds ever

When I realised that I had nearly bitten a bit out of my tongue

And it was bleeding from the little flap on the side

Mouth full of blood with tears

 

What I want to tell about

is the mystery

the beautiful mystery

so close like a tree

 

I know mostly it is not allowed and not reasonable

And there is small blank space in my brain near the right ear, which can hold that thought and understand its people

But keeping there in the reasonable blank space too long imperceptably fades the colours

fades life

fades to an invisible flatness

fades me

 

And I know mostly it is not allowed and not theo-logical

And there is a holy peaceful place in my brain a flat circle near the skull

that can hold that holiness and peace and delicious broad forgiveness and understand its people

But keeping in that holy space too long imperceptiably fades the trees

the possibilities

the fire that brings about change and life

fades me

 

What I want to tell about

is the mystery

the beautiful mystery

so close like a tree

that illuminates everything from the inside

 

What I want to tell about

is the mystery

that beautiful mystery

that seizes ones being in the face of what must not be left unsaid

 

What I want to tell about

is the mystery

salty like blood in the mouth

and harsh against those who bring ruin

 

I wanted to tell about the gentle mystery

I wanted to preach to the birds and the fish

when they were still free

 

There are scars bigger than the chip out of my tongue

Scars of holding out too long without breathing

yet the mystery

the way it is dark and slow and hidden

like an exotic snail on rain forest floor

 

I am writing this because I was at a poetry festival

without poems

 

Poem

©  Nomvula Rain

Photo credit maxpixel.freegreatpicture.com

Advertisements