Murmurings of words
so long unspoken,
now sent out across
the curved expanse
of our spherical home.
Murmurings of all our
voices and languages,
coalesced into one.
Winging out into open
space, like the nimble
murmurations of birds,
never quite touching,
yet deftly creating
virtual shapes,
markings recognizable
only from a distance.
*Do birds' own souls
unfurl and unfold in
these undulations?*
Starlings find aerial
corridors, travelling
together swiftly, so
to stay warm. Do we?
These murmurings,
our word-murmurations,
fly out into the space between us,
swiftly curving back, and then back again,
before dipping low, then nesting deeply,
so very deeply, into sweetest sleep.
Sep 2, 2015
Sep 2, 2015 at 5:09 PM UTC
Murmurings of words
so long unspoken,
now sent out across
the curved expanse
of our spherical home.
Murmurings of all our
voices and languages,
coalesced into one.
Winging out into open
space, like the nimble
murmurations of birds,
never quite touching,
yet deftly creating
virtual shapes,
markings recognizable
only from a distance.
*Do birds' own souls
unfurl and unfold in
these undulations?*
Starlings find aerial
corridors, travelling
together swiftly, so
to stay warm. Do we?
These murmurings,
our word-murmurations,
fly out into the space between us,
swiftly curving back, and then back again,
before dipping low, then nesting deeply,
so very deeply, into sweetest sleep.
(My deepest thanks to Dylan Winter for his phrase "aerial corridors".) ©Elisa Maria Argiro
