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Transit Zone by Martin Burke         < back : index : next >   
 


M i n n e w a t e r   P a r k,   B r u g g e

That water, in its stillness, spoke of brevity.
Images of clouds and trees lay unmoving there.
Four swans nested on the far bank.

To penetrate such stillness, to break through
such covering, and my caution, was what was
required of me but I remained motionless

attempting to match my stillness to its
hoping that by such means I might merge into
that perfect point of silence which was, and actively,

its motion and identity and delight.
That I succeeded or failed is easily known
though that was not the issue when I stood on that bridge

as if I'd come upon a revelation which was lucid and there
for the taking

which I then took and became one of the faithful ones
now counting out the coins of loss and gain.




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