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The Spike [: or, Victoria University College Review 1957]
John Boyd
John Boyd
After the Storm
After the storm
with the new-risen sun wheeling
in its chains and the cry of gulls
kneading the air my now-healing
eyes saw and again believed in the lull
of women's voices binding a wound,
and wild honey spilt on the ground.
After the storm
when the once-wild day cracked like a world
between the fingers of a laughing god
and houses like dogs shook the furled
clouds loose and the earth no longer bled,
I saw again the fire in a woman's hair
warm in the refuge of our desire.
After the storm
the sleek moon rose above the trees
heavy with birth while the same night
I had always known sped like a sea
over hollow land, and the light
failed in blind windows. I saw it all pass
and knew my loss.
*
Alight Here for Fountain and University
Why does this coloured fountain fingering
the night with its brittle plume awaken
old fears of former ills? And why should
rain falling like insects in a bowl
so easily obscure the inward eye resting
in this over-warm room, haven
called Home? These things trouble us, like cold
sunlight on a cloudless day; should we seek
reasons, impose patterns, believe
in unfamiliar faces or olive-armed symbols
of future certainty? And what of the bleak
times when half-forgotten effigies relive
in a mute dance of despair, ragged dolls
with the sawdust running out? The fountain
plays on remembering no feats of strength
and no irony, while the autumn rain still casts
its tinctured veil on upturned faces, no stain
on this ordinary, unhallowed earth. But the old myth
prevails"—while these things are, we find no rest.