Flight of the Wedgetail
And where to go now ?.
The wall that has kept back
silence is beginning to dissolve
and already that vast ocean
of nothingness is slowly seeping
into what holds you together.
You could always wander back
to those alleyways
where bond stores wafted
musty smells up through grates
that you walked past
on your way to school,
or find a seat there
in the acrid air of St Mary's
as incense carried hymns
up to the slaughter houses
of the Lord. All nothing more,
now, than exhibits
in a museum of what each sense
has put away to adorn
some theme or narrative.
And then there is here,
whose borders blur
and morph into gateways,
all promising a view.
Take one to somewhere.
The fiery sunset giving
praise to the glory
of a star, the rapture of oceans,
and the flight of a wedgetail
riding high over a world
waiting like a lover.
Copyright © Paul Willason | Year Posted 2022
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