Old Yellow Moon: Let me in

Wednesday, 23 January 2013

The years have gathered like collected sheaves of wheat at harvest.

A dusky golden sunset tinges the memories.

You have loosed the hold on your mind and dropped the guard

of walls the surround you, built up through years of feeling the outsider..

Walls within and walls without,

stone by stone I have felt my way along

for the opening to your door.

Lichens have mossed here, thick and dripping.

Hints of moisture and time,

so long has it been since you let someone in.

Yet through a chink in that guard,

I saw your heart

secretly beating, encased in red velvet.

The love the sea gives the shoreline – repeatedly touching,

tenderly, harshly, sometimes violent – the clamour of waves

crashing through your reserve, your hesitance, your fear.

Love that caresses then pushes

toward the aperture in your heart which wants to give and to love,

but has lost the knowledge of how.

But repeated reassurance from me like the waves stroking the shore

coaxed your heart from the confines of your fortress,

so strong you had almost forgotten how to leave

even though you wanted to.

Because now I stroke you, you have opened the door, and you have let me in

by the fire your heart beats warm, your head in my lap,

enclosed by me.

These years on we have learnt how to give and what we need.

Old Yellow Moon