The Growing Weariness of Light
Now we have learned to live with it,
If I can speak of “now”. As light
Grew weary, she slowed
‘Till she took crutches, and limped
Along our streets. But then,
If I can speak of “then”,
Absconding children saw their histories in reverse
And hid their wicked deeds in paper bags
Before their parents could find out.
Romantic lovers captured
Sunsets in mirrored boxes, to let them out
When walking, hand in hand, against the slowly dimming sky.
When boredom struck, the future
Could be speeded up by running
From every vanishing point.
Now, if I can speak of “now”, we learn
To measure length in seconds while our diaries read in miles,
To say “sorry” when a passer-by
Looms from the tardy not-yet fog
And when light stops, if I can talk of “when”,
We shall be free to pass
Invisible, our movements held
Like fossil footprints in the dark.
© Martin Porter 2002