It
is night and the stars are blinking. We are lying
in the grass looking up at them, relieved to be in night-time
once again after the constant day. The grass is cool and damp
against our arms and legs but the insects have gone to sleep
at last. Just the moths are fluttering and some bats and there’s
the sound of night birds calling and the howl of a vixen.
It seems the galaxy has started up again, resumed its normal
motion. Stars are in their usual configurations and planets
shine brightly. The moon is a thin slice of itself. In the
fields below the cows and horses are sleeping away their exhaustion,
each breath a sigh of relief. We reach out and touch each
others fingertips and our hands are cool.
|
Out
of the shadows steps an old man. He says, ‘I am dead
now. Everything is alright.’ And I am reassured. He
fades to stone. I stand and look at you. Your face
is familiar from years of touching, yet it’s still new
to me. I follow its contours and search for the colour of
your eyes and it’s still a mystery. See the different
shades of your hair. See scar lines on your chin. See the
youngness of you – a perpetual boyishness. I feel ancient
and wise now. I can take your hand and assure you of the future.
I lead you along the path past the stunted trees of the hillside
and down the steps to the wooded valley where our home will
be. |
