Mother Sonne

[...]

I named this river after you
For you I fought with the moon and courted the tides
I made sure that the earth was brown
I laid you semi-conscious upon a bed of marble
In heavenly love abiding
Around you, caught leaded colours shine in the sunlight
Glow in the moonlight
But my womb aches for you my dead river child, or is it that you are dying?
Shall I carry you away my driftwood son?
Still, still drifting away?
I hoped to sculpt a memory of you
I turn again to look at my hands, clean earth
Simple son like hands and I sculpt this poem for you, John