Baptism of light

Lying quarantined in a ward of one

I rest between the hour of needle points

And ponder how clever my veins are

At playing hide and seek with the nurses

Who wrap a rubber tourniquet around my arm

tap, hold, squeeze and finally make

That sharp plunge, and yet they miss.

And so, I leave them to it, and wander off.

I climb into my breath, which I own,

And slowly pull away from the kerb

Of this room, out through the window

Above the trees, the cars and the hubbub.

I hear the nurse speaking softly

“I didn’t get any blood, I must try again”

But I am away in my helicopter of light

Soaring up over the city, content

To see that I can fly where I will.

Yes they have my punctured body

In that sparse room with lime green walls

But I am the pilot of my breath

With the wind on my scalp, I watch 

The red orb drop slowly into the sea, with

Its rays, a tiara of light speading its fingers

across a thin and darkening sky. 

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One thought on “Baptism of light

  1. Dear Simon,

    Your verses speak of urgency, of emergency even, to be and remain that immutable silent and luminous Presence, because all the escape-strategies that a human mind is capable of inventing, have popped like vain soap-bubbles.

    These are the words that spring from a heart that has thoroughly spring-cleaned each and every dark corner of its cave, words that need no make-up to embellish the evidence of what is…

    Thank you for having taken me for a ride in your “helicopter of light”, and for being a subtle sieve for the stillness that speaks truer than the most holy scripture…

    M

    Like

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