This is us,here-the desire to be
something
anything else,
to hope that in a gaze lies some transport
or a way out of slavery
& that we have
made that for ourselves,that juggernaut
judgement
of what we are being what we do
& who can sneer
at the heart repulsed?
Who can deride
the rejecting soul?
Only the crow on the fencepost,
only the cat at the top of the stairs
who seems to smile
as behind him the sun sinks
behind the trees
& behind them,the mountain.
It is all we are.
It is all we do
Turn the TV off & see and see yourself reflected
in the blank screen; it’s only
the contrast caused
by the other, brighter colours
that makes it appear black.
.
Niall Griffiths
Picture Nick Victor
,