Brief and Lasting, Hard and Fast

Lasting and fleeting

So much I feel the lake lap still

in crisp new Spring’s liquid sun sharp

with winter’s nip at my shameless,

unshod, bare toes where soft  spring breeze

tickles glistening water sheen.

Momentarily I shiver.

 

Sun glint on each wavelet brings clear,

real nearness to each fleeting ripple,

but at some way off in the morning haze

those solid castle walls now seem

a dreamy shadow, not quite true,

as much a ghost as spectral knights

and imagined long dead archers

beneath a roof long rotted away.

 

Every little curve of water is less

than a breath long, but whole lifetimes

watched those stone walls stand. I think

long borne,  unforgiven old hurts.

scarred memories can be like that:

firm, unyielding, but misty shapes,

stuck on landscapes of me.

But in this new son light

Under spirit wind’s soft breath they

become mere ghosts from forgotten times

while bracing eternal waters

wash me in their gracing life flow.

 

© Johan Rich November 2011

 

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