Silhouettes

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These long summer days
wait by drowsy trees,
an empty lane, a signpost
which points towards low clouds
and a livid purple sky.

I can’t breathe
while the storm vibrates this way –
a sky on fire,
shapes and silhouettes
in the lightning flash,
shadows beating against the rain.

Then a sudden break in the clouds –
a swallow dips and dives, spins
a pirouette –
and a heart which feels so light
you think it must belong to someone else.
So much lost. So much yet to gain.

 

 

@Louise Hastings 2014

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Lost in Blue

A-Break-in-the-Clouds1

That moment of waking,
deserted streets, a pale
washed out sky, a woman
out alone, her footsteps tip tapping
along the bridge, a rushing
whoosh, a train thundering by
and a town like any other,
the dawn opaque, the woman, me.

The wind blows colder
and she isn’t lost, just half-dreaming
as morning shadows
fall across the kerbs and side streets –
a gust of wind, a bird taking flight,
then a break in the clouds. sunlight on glass
and the night forgotten,
the backdrop timed to her pulse.

 

 

©2013 Louise Hastings

Listening

The Perseid meteor shower is sparked every August when the Earth passes through a stream of space debris left by comet Swift-Tuttle. (Photo: Darren Wood/Twitter)

The Perseid meteor shower is sparked every August when the Earth passes through a stream of space debris left by comet Swift-Tuttle. (Photo: Darren Wood/Twitter)

i.
Summer is passing
and I wonder
where all the voices go,
the ones that never end
rising in a cacophony
of noise, spit and dust.
Would they stop
if they could hear her wild lament
before the darkness closes in?

ii.
They line up along the street
to protest their unfair fate
while in the road the vans
announce their message: “GO HOME”
and all I see is mess and black austerity,
blood and hate, but what do I know?
Only that I wished upon a falling star tonight.

iii.
And they will predict their rainfall,
declare their wars, but we can
turn their lies into truth,
and when the world turns violent
I can think of brightness, the beyond
and always my love for you.

 

 

©2013 Louise Hastings

In the Hush

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In the distance the land and sky collide,
the wind picks up, the night closes in
and I’m lost in the slow tumble down,
the fear of it, the mildew, dust,
the shadows in the deep reaches
of dream sleep, and all fades to black…

I’ve lived my life thinking this
was all there was of it –
shapes in the dark,
reflections from a mirror,
times of illusion, times of loss –
nothing was ever planned.

A voice speaks inside my head:
‘Here is your starting point.
Here it all begins’
and I know I’ve travelled far
having walked part-way before
by the trees, their leaves caught
in a silver moon and a net of starlight.

But now the rain pit-patters
off the windows, the clouds
lower like a lid, and the truth
stays just beyond me out of reach.
I turn over with no other thought
but for your breathing form –
the hush in the air, the birdsong,
the salty taste on your lips.

©2013 Louise Hastings