discovery

 

Through leafy walls a swathe is made,
the jungle yielding to my blade.
Now left, now right, it shines aloft,
and tangled, tripping vines drop soft.

Adventurer, explorer, more,
I search where none has dared before,
for memories of a long-lost day -
(just stories, fables, so they say).

A dark shape looms - I fall across
a mass of ivy, dripping moss.
So high, so green, so solid, this -
a veritable edifice!
My fingers probe ferns thickly-grown
and touch a cold, hard heart of stone.

Long ropes fall tumbling, green and lush,
to hands which tremble with the rush;
and, stone on stone, a wall I find -
three more, yes, four - all stone, all blind.

I seize my pick, attack the walls.
Old mortar loosens, crumbles, falls,
until at length, a crack of light
reveals the hidden, longed-for sight . . . .

* * * * *

A space lives in my heart, my core,
a bricked-up room which has no door.
The bricks can speak: "I'm well, thank you,
the weather's fine, how do you do?
I'll do just what you want me to -"
(a smile will always see me through).

Old walls, with time all over-mossed,
the memory of their building lost.
High walls, invisible to me,
all hung with habit-greenery.

So long, I've felt compelled to hide.
So long, I've worked to see inside,
to break those bricks down, with a shout,
restore, connect, within, without . . .

The mortar cracks, I can see through!
What treasures first will meet my view?
My breath sucks in, a silent hiss,
I've no known way to cope with this,
this stifled anger . . .

 

(© 1996-2008 Maria L. Grist)

 

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