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Sep 2017

His hands
(tobacco stained)

twisted & gnarled

knotted like an alive
piece of wood

scrawled gestures
across my mind

as the sick calf
bucked in his arms
& his quiet strength

- calmed:

'Shhhhhh... shhhhhhh...****...****! '
he crooned

& the sound

And the veins
(like vines)

ran up & down
his arms
pumping crude life

like a sudden sketch
to suggest the gist of
rather than the meaning of things.

And he walked
(& I ran)

towards Granny's garden
(like God tending Eden)

& the gate(a little hoarse)
sighed at his hand and

the leaves murmured
(like worshippers in a church congregation)

& the sunlight
genuflected through the trees

and the trees wore socks & apples.

A tablecloth was laid
on a logan berry bush.

And the young tree
gave herself to him

broke tenderly in his hand
and, the knife whistled &
out of the branch came a man.

And he told me
(& I believed him
'cos he was good as God & strong)

that the little wooden man
(the silent statue)

had been waiting
(all the time all ready made)

waiting to be released
from his prison of wood.

'All things...'
he whispered
'all things are
waiting for you
to call them.'

'Call them to come out...'

'Awake them...'

'Create them...! '

The rhododendrons
were blue with amazement

- at this revelation -

a dragonfly walked
upon the water.

A butterfly became
infatuated with a flower.


I watched
as his hands

...explaining things that
could not be...said.

And he took
my hand in his

and I understood


like a little stream

into his big river

felt God
near at hand

Donall Dempsey
Written by
Donall Dempsey  Guildford
     Mack and Keith Wilson
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