bullfinch, image by Oldiefan, on Pixabay
In the Beginning
I walk across the afternoon, advancing
ever forward while my soul retreats
into the primordial womb, trail waymarked
by a procession of wonders created
long before my weary bones
were formed from mounds of dirt:
the aria of birdsong, the low hum
of distant ocean, the gentle chime
of limbs in the breeze, the sky
stretched out as an amphitheater,
clouds breaking apart to reveal light,
that firstborn of all creation,
shining down on me: an atom,
a particle weightless in the symphonic
air, a speck of dust fluttering in the wind.
__________________
Daylight
I leave her sleeping in the darkness
of the room, step outside
and find a world not so different:
a forest whose life is smothered
by a thick blanket of snow;
a lake with oxygen choked
by a ceiling of frosted glass;
an endless horizon obscured
by the dense fog of winter’s shadow.
I sit for a long time in the silence,
watching the fire burning in my chest
evaporate as steam from my lips.
Then it happens: the sun emerges
from the world’s opening, a bird call
echoes between the trees, she awakens,
beckons me again with her song.
___________________
Matthew J. Andrews is a private investigator and writer whose poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in Orange Blossom Review, Funicular Magazine, and EcoTheo Review, among others. His debut chapbook, I Close My Eyes and I Almost Remember, is forthcoming from Finishing Line Press. He can be contacted at: matthewjandrews.com
August 2021 issue