Time

The white bird blessed my tears
but when the turning came,
gowned me in midnight sunlight,
had me driven to the ball…
The white bird told me to live
remembering but, when hope
knelt before me, to let
my wooden shoe fall
to earth, and my grey foot
enter the shoe of glass —
the special shoe that would
alter the shape of my life.
So it happened:- noon streamed
through a window, lighting
our embrace… Present joy,
all splendours to come,
were paid for in advance
by years of drab sorrow,
by time that lay like a pool
of dirty water on my heart.
I know I must relearn,
again and again, the moment
of freedom… My feet climb
scarred ravines, traverse
summer and winter fields,
pass water-meadows
darkened by homing swallows.
I make maps; I burn them.