spoken when I speak
written when I write
lived when I am living
the air opens above me
only breath is mine
the wind whose hair is combed
whose hair is in the shadows
valleys, carparks, ravines
sharp with sunlight
the turning of one horizon
to one, to one
to one who turns
you see those deep and steep
falling away into darkness
depths unknowable now
even though walking
you have walked them
steps a passage you have taken
to a height
it makes you dizzy to look down
deep bright days
nights you called out to me
because the duvet was off
because the fever made you cold
because everything was messy
a mess of what was in the room,
what was in the world,
all the people
and what was
.
a gap
a shut door
a gap that goes down
to the bottom of a world
the gap of one horizon
open to one
to one who turns
and taking
a hand
a kind face between your hands
in whoever’s eyes
whose loving face you turn to
see those far off for
you open and undefended
places of air
unreachable ever
only here
a breath away
vanishing into a mist
made more of laughter than tears
because we can never take anything seriously
and there can never be enough love
for you
to me
there was one
who is two
now three
uncountable horizons
to the numberless last
who is one
once more
rounded by one
only the breath is mine
to give
because I look down
and the deep has risen
to meet me
as it will rise
to meet you
with its uncountable horizons
crossings beyond number
and the air will open
above you.
.
[for M.,
on her 21st birthday]
