RENEWAL
Surely the harsh salt of these years
Sealed my true disquiet;
That wild creative urge
Which rippled in the sun,
Has turned to murmured discontent,
Maimed, quartered by gradual tasks.
I served without reprieve.
Therefore, let me now hear again
Your soft pealing voice,
Unshawled, rich with incantation.
I feel it mount my bunds of silence
To rupture my last despair.
Untied, the blood now speaks,
Erupts and shimmers in syllables.
Something is restored as I am
Gathered about a wakening rose.
Gentle your moving breath
Against the night's curfew;
The air has spurs,
As morning sits among the hills.
After such renewal
I hesitate to enfold, to give
What I receive;
To touch, to reach
This star, still not quite knowing,
This sea's heart, soft anemone,
Lovely even on her own.
Edwin Thumboo
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