Proud, Full and Evergreen
I remember believing alone was alone.
What I did not know was that if you open that door
blink your eyes three times
and turn around twice
then stand there stock-still
the wind comes in.
Try this at the window
and the sun comes in.
Then close all doors and eyes
and the world comes in
flows in bright as childhood,
scenes not memories but life to be lived
as often as you choose
with a heigh-ho or a you-then or a you-now.
At first, alone on water, there is no shade.
Salt pinches, sun dries,
you drink and drink but
tongue is thirst, body is ache
and then the wind changes
and you come to this island proud, full and evergreen
with a house scaled to one.
While you are there, rake stones from the beach,
pile driftwood against nights,
caulk the windows and lash the foundation to treeroots.
And when you leave, close the door carefully against wind.
Exactly as you turn and see it in departing,
proud, full and evergreen this island will again
rise out of the sea
when the wind no longer carries human voices.
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FRiGG: A Magazine of Fiction and Poetry | Issue 52 | Fall/Winter 2018