Anam Cara

Arrival

I am gone, further out now

than the infant day I forsook

the feather water of the womb,

my wet skull snailing through

the skin tube, its elastic tight

blinds every feature of my face.

I fall over a sudden edge

into the open vacant light;

I dangle for a while from

the skin line like a bait

until gravity swallows me,

seals me in my skin shape.

Since then something within me

strains through the closed pores

of words to get its echo out,

but becomes dumb again

when it hears their foreign voices

mangle outside what is tender within.

But now …

I open like a swift breeze

over a meadow of clover

seamless, light and free;

helplessly, everything in me

rushes together towards

the dark life of your eyes.