This is the house of Love, which has no bound nor end.


I sleep in the Free State tonight,
between the make believe border
of East and North,
next to an old dam that used to go
by another name,
though the waters haven’t changed
since last I was here, only faded somewhat,
slowly melting back as I watch
from the old railway bridge
whose brick arches are bleeding now,
as the sun sets in open splendour.

I drove all day to see one red flower
growing by the cattle paths below,
to hear doves singing their return
and the fish eagle’s cry
as I swat at a pesky horse fly
and flip into one perfect moment
in the sliding light
while the river floats gold and then blood
and then a hue outside history or value
beneath the vaulted ceilings of this
longest bridge we built in a land
of beating, broken hearts and bones
buried by the First People
so that we might remember
the peace which is our birthright.


Put your arms around me