Question

We rumoured our secrets

In the vale,
The words echoing

From tree box to branch
To be swallowed

By passing ripples,
The sluice slinging

From mountain top
That we pictured seeing,

Before the end of the days
When we all returned

At home we allowed
we knew,
But all questioned.

Our knees scraped gemstone,
Blood oozed

To mix with ice water
Washing from Earth,

Our secret absorber
That changed and churned

Rearranging words
Giving Stopgap to lost souls

And reaffirming
Those questioning path

set up through darkened timber.

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