written by: Elizabeth Barton
The sky was not as troubled
As the sullen look in his eye,
Though clouds tumbled black
And the rumour of snow
Scurried on the wind.
What gave rise to the dream, I don’t know.
A chill breath of air on a lake,
Being carried aloft, a sense of flight.
I uttered under my breath,
‘I have found my destiny.’
The journey was perilous and riven by storm,
Rain and wind blinding my way.
The Divine within was calling me
A vicar said. A man of the cloth,
Or was he a poet who had lost his way?
I kept faith with my dream,
The wintry elements became my kin.
What is divine in one person’s eye
Appears infernal to another mind;
I was cursed; I was compelled to leave.
Lightning flickered on a backdrop of night,
Its tension tasted in my sleep.
I flew high over the rippled lake;
In the dream, I was an apparition of evil
Because I could fly, and there was no way
I could disprove the whispers in the trees
Or reveal the meaning of the wind
That unsettled the lake. Come day,
The dream presaged my final journey.
In the heart of winter, I departed,
Where no one could touch me
With the cold hand of judgment.