When the dam burst
And swift it came onto the parched and brittle land,
the lift and breach and pour of sudden sluice,
and down the dam wall came, while cursing all
that passionless void which reigned before.
And kiss engulfed, this famished writhing land,
with dry stalks long, wrung up their tears from earth,
to join the sweetly rushing song.
So long had we waited, obeying the lack,
a thousand dry folded years in abeyance,
deprived of something always near,
this dark and rich-cool depth of water,
stretched so long before us weeping,
slow through our dam wall of waiting,
for this thunderous quench to fall.
And now we are here, knee deep and dripping,
our old ways washed, our feet engulfed sacred,
our face wet with tears, our relief, defies all disgrace,
for this is no tragedy at all.
Now the river breathes once more,
the fishers swoop, the lark, the turn
of life has run in melodious flow,
the riddle jangle over rocks, and green of banks,
and greener still the moss,
the frieze dried canvas land, now acquiesced
to the majestic smell of damp and loam.
How crucial – from out the crack in sterile wall,
should come this flourishing call;
and who would know how far this kiss of life would fall?
And out of that momentous breaching of grief,
would see such longed for sweet release,
from all the brittle, whispering life we knew before.
