A Shawl Of Indigo Aura

The evening is a thick, black lid
closing over the sun:
Tonight the sky is inlaid
with pink clouds

because the light has crawled
inside of them falling asleep.
How is it
I understand light’s recital,

yet have no words to
explain it?
A poem without words?
A poet without a voice?

Today I watched a child,
a young girl, my daughter,
stepping into a puddle of light.
She said: I have sailed here before.

Her breath has the weight
of a sparrow. Her eyes, like poetry itself.
She wears a shawl of indigo aura
and gives me armfuls of her enthusiastic love.

My seven-year-old daughter, with a plum-tree stick
in her hand, saving earth worms from drowning
–winter storms have destroyed their homes

—her enthusiastic love was saving them:
Bellies down, she placed the exhausted
earth worms in the grass, quietly talking to them.
To the dead ones she whispered:
I love you and have a wonderful afterlife.

Of the darkness: Together we whispered
about light falling asleep.


From my first book: ‘In Forbidden Language’

Publisher: Stillpoint Books

Editor: Eve Costello

©dah / dahlusion / Stillpoint Books 2010
all rights reserved


About Dah

"Light is my happiness" Email: "dahlusion@yahoo.com" Google: "dahlusion"
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