Canal boat near Frampton
ROGAN WOLF
The Other Side
I dreamed last night I crossed a bridge
and was terrified
by the strangeness of the other side,
how dangerous it felt to know so little
of what to say and where to hide
my secrets.
So I cried to a passing bird
(swan-like and dignified)
“Please fly
me feather-light home.
My home is where
it’s safe to speak and share
my secrets. Please gather me up
and fly me there.”
*
Wings that Thrum
This bird I ride
dignified as a swan
has wings that thrum
as they beat the air
like the cello strings
of an orchestra.
Most days, sitting astride
its shoulders, I’m quiet,
but once, I asked politely :
“Excuse me, thrumming bird,
am I your pilot, in riding you ?
or just your passenger ?”
The bird turned its head
and looked back at me
most searchingly,
but answered no word.
*
The White Bird Speaks of Fear
This royal bird, white winged -
what part does it play in the theatre
of my dreams and hasty days ?
How did I get here, astride its shoulders,
sharing its flight,
beneath the stars ?
“I shall guide you to places
you never dreamed of,
powers
you never thought you had.
I shall teach you
not to be afraid.”
*
Never Still
There’s never pause astride these shoulders.
Hearing the white wings beat as if singing
I know I’m almost alone in the universe
and sometimes I find that I’m afraid.
And we must fly, we two, never still,
as all around us the universe flies,
like a bird, never still.
*
Crossing
I’ve learned that home
never stays still. There can
be no ‘returning home.’
Time takes me
and space gives way to me
and being alive
means always crossing over
from time to time
from place to place -
crossing without end.
Home is a moving –
a leaving, an arrival.
April/May 2021
© Poems by Rogan Wolf
(Photo: Nicola Knoop)
More by or about Rogan Wolf clicking the tag with his name.