Different pinks, we are ringing together,
the cheerful chink and chime of work
in daylight.
It's been a long haul
since the close dreaming of clay
and sudden rip into air
that cools and dries. How we were
hammered and dinned:
they ground us apart until none
knew itself from another.
Then the great
pressure squeezing all gaps away.
We came up green with shiny faces. When
we touched, we kissed as softly
as fruit, or flesh. |
Head to head, stretcher to stretcher
through the fire of our own making
we sang in secret behind the wicket
with the pure light of our burning.
We purged the lives and deaths of our past.
Days of cooling. Ticking together
as heat shrank from tempered hearts.
And after, the melodic unstacking
and repacking, the joggled journey
to here, to purpose and common cause.
We ring with vigour, ready and spick
to fit a man's hand.
Anne Berkeley |
