Each human voice reached us
without sound, a warm breath on the cheek,
a dry kiss.
Why am I so quiet?
This is the end of the world, I am dreaming
the end of the world, and I go from bed
to bed bowing to the small damp heads
of my sons in a bedroom that turns
slowly from darkness to fire. Everyone
else is gone, their last words
reach us in the language of light .
The great eucalyptus trees along the road
swim in the new wind pouring
like water over the mountains . Each day
this is what we waken to, a water
like wind bearing the voices of the world,
the generations of the unborn chanting
in the language of fire. This will be
tomorrow. Why am I so quiet?
Hilda Morley
THE LIZARD
The lizard's heart throbs
faster than mine through his
green spots.
With prehistoric
claws he seeks his shelter
in the shadow of the vine,
his head
to one side in watchfulness.
Measure it:
observe the suspense. He is
anchored to it - the fear of danger -
&
we are
anchored to nothing.
