SAINT JULIAN PRESS

KEVIN MCGRATH ~ POET

 

 

O N E

 

A bird flew to the air

The great chamber was empty,

All the shadows had fled

And all the hours were in shadow.

 

Shadows you were

Dressed clearly like grain

Grain and thirst,

The bird of conceivable space.

 

 

 

 

I - 2

 

 

There are four winds about the world

That move within the human soul,

First, the strange attraction going

Between a girl and a boy.

 

The second takes us on in time

So that we might look back,

At the residence and procession

Of what is lost upon our way.

 

The third is the emptiness that

Fills up our breathing days,

As we go toward our source

Its quietness makes us more still.

 

The final air is that of beauty

Quick, ephemeral, always true,

The breeze that makes substantial

Everything we do not know

Song of what we cannot say.