I have seen the sky burn black,
and shine in its heavy, blinding blackness.
I have heard the dull whispers of embers
as they fold themselves inwards,
collapse, grow weak,
and then silence.
But tonight the moon hangs above us,
suspended in the day and alive
like a silver coin on a broken chain.
Don’t you think the people and the voices
seem far away from us?
Like we’re on an empty field,
save some lonely cows,
in the dark
and watching the night fill itself
with these tiny explosions,
and paper bags of floating fire.
I have seen
and I am older than I am.
if I find myself recalling
how you would light up in this selfsame way.
Those little glimmers of sparks you let out
through your words and eyes and fingers,
that could set the stars alight.
I don’t know how
we got ourselves here.
In this field
with the cows.
I want to tell you I have seen the sky
and I have loved you.
Yes, I have loved you
in great handfuls of barley and corn,
from the sacks they keep at the market stalls.
I have loved you
as one loves a thing that is alien to them.
As a thing they are born with.
But you are
only a part of yourself.
And I have seen too much.
I have said too much,
We watch the foundations crumble
beneath the weight
of those glowing dancers,
as they sway their hips, to and fro.
I can’t help but wonder,
if one day they will learn to make fire
and does not burn.