Inspiral Tide

Inspiral tides of imagination,
sweep wistfully across my life today,
seven apparitions,
dancing;

A madrigal weave, a scarf from the
old Middle East, Turkey or Egypt, a country rich in history to wrap warm around me.

A little bird, singing sweetly, held between my two front teeth, able to be understood, able to be happy, able to weep, with me.

A crooked wooden stick, held in my crooked wooden hand, that my crooked wooden mind wants to snap.

A piece of you. Just one. A corner piece, no more. One little piece of you to finish my Hope Jigsaw.

A prayer mat, a magic carpet that can talk to God, and woven within it, a little man, imprisoned in religious cloth.

A beggars bowl growing out of my foot, my nose a whistle, my ass a drum, my left arm a bow, my right a violin. And me, playing a melancholy tune for you.

A world, held, carefully, on top of my shoulders, balancing precariously. You said 'Wear a coat today', I said 'no, I can't do that'
I said ' I have the whole world on my shoulders, and it won't go away'

I, in spiral tide.