Seeking refuge By Nigel Crisp
Up on the ridge, the wind takes charge
blowing fiercely, not letting go, no room for
any thought, but breathing, walking
wind and sound and lungs and legs and
nothing else
The gulls check up on me from far above
passing in waves, they run down the wind
white horses in the grey sea skies
in search of new horizons, they can see
for ever
Down the slope the neolithic grave
grief so old, it freezes history, held still
I stand and watch the turf and stones
and let the past climb over me and
blow away
Further on, trees hold out their branches
come in peace, hidden from the wind they
collect the energy from sun and air
and share with us the magic of all
living things
She greets me at the gate, tall chestnut mare
confident and strong, in perfect balance
leaning in she strokes my hand and cheek
whispers welcome brother, sister,
soul.