Borderland
The air was different tonight
teasing us beyond the city
ghost-walking abandoned streets,
of bottles, boxes and bones rattling at the edges
to the tethered whine of a starving dog.
We walked on in silence.
As the city faded behind us
step and breath found their rhythm.
We carried its fire-blackened stones in our hearts,
each a memory of where we once belonged
because we knew nothing else.
We would walk till words returned.
On the third night we found a forest.
Stepping into its green-scented darkness
we removed our boots to feel cool
mosses creep between our toes.
Touching . . . a snail shell? . . . a fallen cone?
We remembered familiar textures of once living things.
The forest floor woven with feathers, dried fern,
and night-scented plants we failed to name.
We lay down, peering up through
the tree-canopy at slices of sky
granulated with stars.
Fox-gloved sleep stole us at last.
A moth settled, to sparkle on your cheek,
it stirred when you opened your eyes
as dawn shivered with birdsong
Words formed. Hesitant at first . . .
‘Listen’
‘We will be safe here’