Tai Chi at Dawn

Dawn breaking

By Greta Bellamacina

 

The gods met up to decide your fate first

 

they made their decision through the “rosy-fingered dawn”

 

the wind was young and they sat on the broken spells of rain

 

a dozen owners of the stars

 

throw down their signals,

 

an inter-wind of eagles to see if you’d notice

 

the new windows high up in the hills

 

the new thousand years of tree room

 

made like shaking trains far in your childhood

 

for you to roam and leave the cold streets

 

for you to imagine the end of the sky

 

and the school you will one day leave.

 

To see if you would notice me

 

walking coatless into the flowered womb of ghosts by our bed.

 

 

 

The night continues to note down the morning dawn

 

it breaks slowly its hands gentle like a smile

 

ragged with blue ornaments from a mountain seascape,

 

the light is egoless at this hour

 

it is in a state of meditation

 

it rows pulling light like a guardian

 

it is a woman and man

 

it is the quest of prayer-wheels

 

giving the light the latency of light.

 

You're fast asleep beside me rafting with the tides

 

you have your own birds of the sky hallowing you unbonded

 

but the birds inside of me have not stopped

 

flapping their towering wings in twos

 

a river in the womb of a river, another mediterranean.

 

 

 

Athena stayed behind like a statue

 

in the darkness holding the torch light towards Troy

 

remembering the honour of peace

 

remembering the hour of waking

 

remembering the bureaucracy of tears

 

the heavens remain unimpressed

 

their only job— biographers of the light

 

a freezer tray to the sky

 

where all golden light come to die

 

and live in between the voices

 

a postcard to the church.

 

And you're now awake and everything is settled and you say

 

“I can feel it, it’s alive.”

~*

 

"Muse" ~*DD

Done