Blane

by Roon Lewald

1.
Immured in mountains
of depression and inertia,
those fragile certitudes
are crushed which once
you nourished in me.
I hear the echoes of your feet
down here, striding out
above me on your trail.

But in spring, mark you,
even moles will burrow
up into the sun.
In spring, dear climber,
look for molehills
on your trail.

For J.B., May 1989

2.
Grey is a hermaphrodite,
merging into every shade
from black to white;
harbouring both poles:
darkness and light.

States of mind mutate
rather like the shades of grey.
Imagine a survivor, numbed
by some personal disaster,
as his mind fumbles
towards the light of day.

As well as he is able –
not without setbacks,
not always firm of heart
or clear of mind –
he perseveres along a path
that’s not exactly easy;
anything but straight;

but which,
he quickeningly senses,
beckons to a brighter fate.