Ring, water stage – short and long

Let circled water ring on life’s dry stage,

to sound the mellow notes of  settled time,

 and bring to searching Soul an echo clear;

 the song of Self  as angels long ago divined.

RING OF WATER

The ring of water grew slowly; washing,
in circling, funnelled, constancy,
against the earth on which she sat. The
floods had come, both literal and symbolic,
watering the dry, hard ground of psyche and
of  soil. It was, they whispered, just
a stage that she was going through, or was
that growing through? In the silence,
on the edge of fallowed fields of broken
grain, she could almost imagine that
the land would be swallowed by that suck
of snaking river, released, when dams
broke, further upstream – in places she
had never seen and of which she could
only dream. Dust settled between bare
toes, and sighed in dark sorrow at
the edge of sole, until, at last, as the
sun fell limply into stubbled fields,
she dropped her feet over the edge;
and washed the grains of dirt and memory
from all that she had become in that
time, at the edge of aging worlds.

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About rosross

Editor, writer, poet.
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