Reaching Out

By Lynn White

There was a time when
I knew where to find you,
knew the places and spaces
you inhabited
in my dreams,
in my day
and night
dreams.
Now I’m reaching out
hoping,
searching
for you.
It’s hard now,
it's harder to find you,
to recognise your shape and form.
You are becoming fragmented
and ephemeral
and I’m reaching out
to catch you.
Don't pass me by.
Don't let me fade
away.

 

Willow

Willow don’t weep.
I won’t keep my sadness inside
your billowing summer canopy.
I’ve waited
for the winter,
the winter of our discontent
which falls every year
as another page turns
and more leaves
are lost
turning golden
first
then brown
with decay
then white
with the silence
of the first snow fall
I’m waiting now
for the songs of spring
to make me smile again.
Willow don’t weep for me

 

Sandcastles

She’s standing on the beach
with a small suitcase.
It’s unclear
if the suitcase is full
or empty.
Once she packed it full
of her dreams,
but it’s unclear
if any remain.
She thinks now
that they were built on sand,
sandcastles on the beach
to be carried away
on a storm tide,
or washed up
and buried
in the sand.

All that is clear
is the emptiness
of a long horizon.

 

Lynn White lives in north Wales. Her work is influenced by issues of social justice and events, places and people she has known or imagined. She has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize, Best of the Net and a Rhysling Award.