ways of approaching

A line from the film 'The Burmese Harp' reminded me that when the Americans have gone, when the maulvi has stopped spewing his hatred, the people of this land will still sing their songs, and music shall be a bridge.

For the mind
to raise itself
a minute...
sustaining song,
the changes constant...
and the songs we raise
are boundaries to what we own

the wine matures, the colour and the scent moves us to a new centre, the voices below and behind the words... the rest falls away, melts like snow in the presence of the red sun. patience, burning, sadness endured, ways of approaching. speaking the right words, in the right manner, your hands curving to mine. your garments loosened by the passage of time, revealing your true form. the clouds, high and clear, the sky-blue pattern of your dress, rain linking the elements. counterpoints of rigour, the clarity of the far white. the curvature of space, the curve of time that brings you back, again and again...blue flowers, yellow flowers, a garden, a dog, a stick, an open house, stone bridge, if God wills it so.

(words by John Riley)