Song caught by the grave of Christina Rossetti

Let’s join the caravan from here to there

From fantasy to earth my friend

Feel sun on your face and wind in your hair

Let sensual truth ascend


How far is the place we truly belong?

It touches our feet and sings

Were we here when communities first made their songs?

Summer, Winter and Spring?


You trod on this soil and broke its bread

And in forests not of your making

You stepped by the codes of the filial dead

Wood songs drew your singing


Does the road lead uphill? It seems so far

From law and wage and schooling?

There are no miles to where you are

Let them go. End your fooling


Greed of wealth made law and school

To supress how we’d respond

To soil and plant and water ruled

By other laws and bonds


There are no miles to our common home

But a foot-worn way of seeing

Where mile-full, fenced exclusions roam

And we trespass our own being



Where lives are ruled by nothingness

And the sensual world is lost

And deepest loves are meaningless

And life is hung with frost


Not of cold, but heat-frozen time

Fires of fossilised years

Man ascending a dead energy climb

To gas and ashes and tears


Relax into soils of home my friend

There is no journey there

It is where life begins and ends

Finite, true and fair

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1 Response to Song caught by the grave of Christina Rossetti

  1. Michelle says:

    Ah Christina Rossetti, wonderful that last stanza especially sums it all up!


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