What’s that fluttering in a breeze?
Its just a piece of cloth
that brings a nation to its knees.
What’s that unfurling from a pole?
It’s just a piece of cloth
that makes the guts of men grow bold.
What’s that rising over a tent?
It’s just a piece of cloth
that dares the coward to relent.
What’s that flying across a field?
It’s just a piece of cloth
that will outlive the blood you bleed.
How can I possess such a cloth?
Just ask for a flag my friend.
Then blind your conscience to the end.
‘Flag’
John Agard
A cloak lifted to the wind and laid in the dust for the King.
A curtain - the keeper of the holy of holies - wrenched and ripped and ruined.
A body bound. And unbound.
You may think
that first lit flame
was the ultimate blaze,
the holy fire
entered at last.
that first lit flame
was the ultimate blaze,
the holy fire
entered at last.
What do you know of furnaces?
This is a sun that returns
again and again, refining, igniting,
pouring your spirit
through a cloth of delicate gold
until all dross is taken
and you are sweet as
clarified butter
in god’s mouth.
This is a sun that returns
again and again, refining, igniting,
pouring your spirit
through a cloth of delicate gold
until all dross is taken
and you are sweet as
clarified butter
in god’s mouth.
‘A Cloth of Fine Gold’
Dorothy Walters
hills and valleys. peaks and troughs. (iPhone image)
No comments:
Post a Comment