(You, young child alone on a broken moor,
open your drinking eyes with shattered awe)
Standing, standing
To see the freckles in the night
To see the tears in shy dead light
To see the stars
(But Cry, child, Cry)
The stars are sullied and veiled, and currents quicken round you,
(To tug on your sleeves and tussle your hair)
As giants begin to howl in the dales, and dragons roar above you –
You-
You are a sack of bones tied up with string
(Cry, child, Cry)
The old earth groans and grows- the trumpets ring
(Cry, child, Cry)
Weather only screams, the heather just tires,
(Cry, child, Cry)
Below electric thrones on holy fires,
(Cry, child, Cry)
As biting sleet and burning wind strike down
(Cry, child, Cry)
on your little rock, your little hands- Now-
Now – Gasp, gasp in the hateful air
You’ve hungered for more than this
You lightning child, what do you care
for storms and the sublime’s kiss?
For you feel blood in sobbing skin
And still run to the sun in the bay,
Tawny eyes brimming, reality thin
As grown ups promise future days, (Dreaming),
Into the crowning sun
On burnt sapphire waves.
Copyright © Isaac Boothman 2018, for Lucas Kelly
bits of pieces 