‘Start seeing everything as God but keep it a secret’
– Hafez
No-one else is willing to nurse
my tea-light spirituality – not you at least
and I am easily overpowered – lost
and tongue-tied during harsh arguments.
I want to hide my flame from you,
cupping in budded hands a secret hope
you won’t be able to blow out: how the spirit
lifts into backlit rainclouds with the seagulls, how
a leaf is never just brown litter skittling
but father-child-grandfather
to the Wind and the animating spirits.
Elsewhere in the world, Spring spills out the soil
but here it’s still November, hands shoved deeply
in woollen pockets. These are the days the rainbow
hides unseen, or so say the Japanese.