(a poem written by Ros during her time with no.1)
—
These days the walls between worlds are thin.
A shaking is awakening in me
a restlessness to move,
a trembling earthquake ripples from somewhere inside out along my skin
into the entire space around.
It travels along and through the ground
shifting and sifting sand,
shaking it all up.
There is almost no inside,
the house too… the television and the beds
all are shifting.
Everything is at stake.
Maybe we will lose things?
Like the everyday contents of drawers and cupboards
and that old stuff
that has been gathering dust.
I wonder if you can see me shaking,
whether you know you are a part of this moving landscape?
Stillness seeps remedy over control.
Nothing now nothing still.
Even the birch trees.
It’s not that it has to end now,
the world to enter another.
But it is time to give a little respect to humour.
Pleasant air
a breeze
cracks
wide open.
Could it be enough?
Just you beside me.
Just the presence of your touch.
Sometimes firm
sometimes soft.
Could it be just time,
the time that you give to be willingly present.
That takes two,
me with you and you with me.
How nice that we have appeared.
I notice I am breathing better
now that you are here
and I wonder,
if we were to walk to the top of a mountain
whether there on the peak
we could breathe better still?
Exposed to the elements,
closer to the clouds,
skin: our pores open.
We stand in the cold air
in all but t-shirts
open to the winds’ caress.
A fresh time falls.
And I am not shaking now
but breathing in presence with you.
Strong, light and alive.
—
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