Contributor Series 6: A Currency of Words
The Descent
By Joseph Murphy
As evening drew up I lingered outside,
Waiting for what might jump
From mind to page.
I must wake the slumbering body of these words.
A stirring has begun!
At my feet, a willful phase
Reshapes a patch of light:
In a thought or two, it's become a door
I swing open.
Down I go.
I enter a grand chamber:
Clouds protrude from roots; flesh and leaf
Reflect identical images.
Shaping my language into a ladder, I descend further.
It's quiet this far down. Still. Lovely.
I just breathe. Perfect.
But I must return.
I'm not yet ready for such peace. I can't stop
Pestering my words: tapping them
On the shoulder; sorting
Through their memories; unfolding
Their maps.
That Summer Storm (July 2010) was the most recent poem by Joseph Murphy to appear at vox poetica.
Beautiful!
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Great imagery.
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