You also want an ePaper? Increase the reach of your titles
YUMPU automatically turns print PDFs into web optimized ePapers that Google loves.
Hellebore<br />
What skirts of watered silk, wild-green and rose,<br />
shimmer within the forest of your leaves,<br />
shy of the light, guarding their colour close,<br />
striving to be distinct, to be believed?<br />
A head so heavy on a stem so slight.<br />
Bruised colour, shades prefigured by the night.<br />
Why do you conjure flowers of despair,<br />
turned from the sun, desperate to hide?<br />
Why do your petals, drawn towards the air,<br />
close when they sense the stricken heart inside?<br />
If you had words, if simple words could frame<br />
feeling, distilled, yours Hellebore, is ‘shame’.<br />
Lift your head up. Look at the sudden sky.<br />
Colour as dancer: these are the Northern Lights.<br />
This is your palette, hanging but hanging high.<br />
The dome of the world is on fire, achingly bright.<br />
Think of this sky. Think of how darkness glows.<br />
Take it, that longed-for pride, Lenten Rose.<br />
24