April 30, 2018 by petrujviljoen
I’m impatient. My need is great. So I leave. The cat will be at the gate when I get back. If guilt was a bag I’d shrug it off but it isn’t.
Dress: strictly casual. So casual in fact I’d be embarrassed if I met anyone. But then, if I did I’d have forgotten myself already, so soon, and greet because nothing is the matter. But I won’t. I haven’t in seven years of walking this area. I pray. Do you understand why?
True solitude – walking, sitting, walking there and then there, some climbing often, over boulders, rocks, down slopes, through streams, clinging to trees while making my way along the very edge of a rock-strewn bank of a serious river at the bottom of a gorge which slope is at a 40m steep tilt.
All senses awake to SEE. Colour, shape, form, pattern. Imagining Gondwana, how still, how quiet it must have been so the sandstone could meld, the lava cool in a swirl. I don’t close my eyes to see a whale swim by.
I lay me down in dappled
light, having drunk –
the river laughs with
Linked to Dverse Poets