Who stole
the lighthouse keys?
There’s no beacon I can see.
Where’s my roaming beam
that circles by degrees,
reaching out across the sea,
to keep the rocks away from me.
Who stole the lighthouse keys?
Who snubbed my candle’s reach?
No seam of light to hold the night,
mark and guide cross awkward skies,
and now, the screeching gulls of eventide
once more this fearful mystery -
controlled by those who stole
the lighthouse keys.
I will keep this thought
to myself tonight.
I was thinking about you
All your things in readiness
Held in a drawstring bag
Clutched like pearl and trove
in netted treasure sack.
You, looking so … little
And scared in the blue
Of losing cool and shine
Of forgetting who you are
At the mercy of cold hands
Lying passive and waiting -
How like a fish jumped
Into strange waters!
Minutes rising, countdown’s pull,
Of meeting bloodied dark
Of growing fate through stir
And current that tugs and calls
Like black queen crawfish
Moving in a mystery game.
How cruel such creatures are
That make me think of you,
Sifting the night sounds
Tossing and turning but not moving
Stilled beneath cutting sheets
Of ripple click and midnight tuck
Of care that feels like harm,
Pin-dropped cold in the pool
And drifting, where no-one knows.
But yet, I think of you
And time rushes as if water
Flowing free the crusted hold
A return to whom you know
In joy of being - of belonging
Back to friendship’s spoils
And the untethered laughter
Of good times swirling endlessly
Like unhooked river trout
Playing in whitewater smile.
I was thinking about you, and know
You will race the stream again.