In the Hush


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


Warm Currents

Photo credit: Louise Hastings

Photo credit: Louise Hastings

When I woke this morning,
not really awake,
paddling along the surface
of a dream like a swan,

I thought this must be
what a soul is like,
always there
but hidden on the other side of dark.

I could be the wind or trees
or a bird under starlight
or the ripples on the lake,

but I’m not me
until your currents lift me
and I rise into air.



©2013 Louise Hastings

Lady of the Lake

Photo credit: Louise Hastings

Photo credit: Louise Hastings

Beyond these hills in a darkening sky
the wind blows in a gust of stars

and I dream of flying, stepping off
this plinth of stone, to stretch my wings

and fly like the birds do, in wind and sun,
over earth and trees. I searched for this

wild place, became its guardian, watched
it change as I changed, my legs, my arms,

my face; I looked upon them like they were new
to me, all the cracks and storm-blown parts

belong to me as I stand alone among these empty
hours, waiting for the sunrise, the shaft of orange light

that brought me warmth and hope
before I heard the music and caught the fire.



Copyright @Louise Hastings 2013

Sensory Perception

Photo credit: Louise Hastings ~ Dragon in Glastonbury

There is a dragon
perching on a rock,
holding out his wings
to the wind
that sweeps across the bay.
I can see his pale
translucent skin,
his eyes caught by the light
thrown from the sun
and while we speak
of legends, fire and storms,
he bows his head to mine,
listens gravely as I talk.
Or so it seems –
a sensory perception
as real as you or I.



© 2012 Louise Hastings


A flower buds
and opens in the hand,
creates an inner sense of joy and peace
despite the faces
leering from the crowd,
the voice that whispers in the night.

Each petal and leaf
is pearled by rain and sunlight,
changes shape in the shifting sky
and sings a different song
just as poems do
within an image or a metaphor,
in the struggle to get it right.

Light grows and senses fill with petrichor,
vivid colour, scents
and somewhere in a dream
lies divinity
ethereal as the moonlight.



This poem first appeared on the Buddha Chick Life site which asked for submissions on mindfulness & creativity.

© 2012 Louise Hastings