I am all ears, I say to the poet on the page.
If I speak your words, over and over again
will your wisdom bring rain,
your praise light up a new morning?
Do we distill to passion
after centuries of loss?
Is this our new language
the knowing field?
This home, our dwelling place, tucked
in the labyrinth of green.
How it presses on with certainty
follows the in-breath, verdant and timeless
a spring leaf in a treasured book
opening to this very page.
Believe the shadow in the maple is moving
Believe the breath knows soon enough
Believe you are the crow, waiting
The body of grief has no shame
licks your tears
drinks your eyes
leads you to water
makes you crazy with life again
Oh, that elusive silence
that courted you without words
embodied what you already knew.
Between light and shadow
nesting with stars or indigo skies
shape-shifting as my great-grandfather
drifts in and out of books
Can we move so easily into arms
as shadows through these hundred trees?
All things invisible
the silent water our hands hold
the hourglass containing breathless music
all this reflected in your eyes
in the moment between your words
and our song
Where colours with chameleon eyes
dance from one intricate texture
to another, planets of the uncharted
shattering the spectrum
of my slowly waking eye
Diana Hayes in a west coast Canadian poet, photographer and editor. She is also the founding member of the Salt Spring Seals, a team of open water swimmers that practice their sport and craft, year round, in all weather in the various bays and harbours of the Gulf Islands. Many of her poems, stories and photographs are inspired by the abundant sea life discovered while swimming in the Salish Sea.