Singing Self
(TO TRISTAN)
Self song,
like inner guidance,
channels through the pen
or through this music's tough
and tender resonance,
search tentative beside
the voice of morning doves.
How shall I listen to myself ?
How know my own voice from
another in the dark ?
So much to do, my restlessness
betrays. No Body listens,
crouches in the dark:
ill-hewn, resentful,
beast between
the overweening outward voices
and the wind warmth
of my soul.
How does one open to the beast,
the soul self whispering,
before it overcomes
and with uncomely violence
screams out her secrets to indifferent
worlds who shrug and gossip,
dribble privacies before they go,
their ways, their ways:
listen to you,
my mute and struggling beast,
dark self, dark soul
so prison poisoned, private
in the breast ?
Alice Thorpe
COPYRIGHT
29 March, 1999
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