Door

'The conscious man likes to correct me'

Did you lock the door?
I had a dream about the baby caught in the storm
Screaming out until her lungs caught weight
No one wants to hear the story of her fate
Your shepherd’s light drives me out Into the wild wildness of the earth
The raven made its nest upon my knee
Banyon branches round the neck twisted like jewellery
Who brings me out to the sea?
Breaking out, alive, it’s the wildness of me
The conscious man likes to correct me
Can’t hear the sound, the rhythm of his own body
Across the eyes a painted artificial story
Wants what is mine but doesn’t know how to take me
The mortal flesh fears the tides
But become one with the wind the soul smiles inside
By the blunt of some force, something of me is exiled
But the body gains its strength from the earth that gives it life
Who brings us out to the sea?
It’s the life that doesn’t see death as its enemy
The conscious man likes to correct me
Can’t hear the sound, the rhythm of his own body
Across the eyes a painted artificial story
Wants what is mine but doesn’t know how to take me
Did you lock the door?
I had a dream about the baby caught in the storm

Anya is a climate journalist and a singer-songwriter.

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