Questions Without Marks

I feel them all,

These whispers without whispering,

As they rattle secretly -and not –

Around this real-ether world.

We’ve never been face-to-face

Yet, disturbingly, and its opposite

She knows me so well.

There are moments, she says

Without speaking when she hangs

On my words. There are days,

I know when I am held in thrall by

Her brutally innocent intuits:

Questions without marks.

“Were we not more whole,

More in touch, when we respected

Those who commune with serpents?

When we recognised the snake as

Healer rather than nightmare?”

The Breath

Shimmering features –
A fire in a fire –
Slip and tease,
Glimmering gold on gold,
Like the immortal sun
Inside its mortal self.
Icons intertwined of
Past and future –
Together and in opposition.
Gilt-armoured serpent
Seizes and consumes its
Own warrior tale.
This is treasure,
This is shield,
This the breath,
Turning days to precious,
That goes on forever.