‘Speaks true, who speaks shadows’

Paul Celan ‘From Threshold to Threshold’ 1955

For love is flesh, it is a
flower flooded with blood.
Did you think it was just a
little chat across a table?’

Marina Tsvetaeva ‘Poem of the End’, 1924


in this heraldic moment,
admit the lies and hypocrisy,
the glossed-over cowardice
and prison of denial

in this embodiment of time,
admit the sorrow of love,
and its glory,
in that sacred hearth,
admit its recluse
and requiem

in this heraldic moment,
admit the sanctuary of solitude,
the unrepentant blessing
of life’s curtain falling


Mullumbimby, Australia 2019