Here is the full text of Pemberton poet, Trish Belsham’s award-winning poem, Let Birds Fly.
LET BIRDS FLY
Skirt hem scraping dips and folds into
The rough wooden floorboards
Open spacious barn, I circle palm
In hand to his velvet touch
Starlings swoop and scream high in the hole
To sky, where the roof peaks,
Making room for clouds to enter, curious.
I walk slowly now
Dragging my treasures behind me
Small nuts, gathered broken branches
And beetle carcasses, remnants
Of a dead forest salad on loaded plate
Hard to Mother’s floor
Swiftly passing, like my lover.
He steps lightly tween my dancing slippers
Hand pressed firmly to my back
Timely footsteps push blistering
Courtly rhythms scratched out of tune
Twining the shuffle of older shoe music.
We meet and list to a new candour
Cheek on cheek
Jacket and skirt flying out to the shredded walls,
Where light seeks our broken bodies
With fond memories
Printed on our fragile skins.
We snuggle warm in comfort
There for each other, sweet
Medicine for our coming demise.
Cradled in the lap of the big wood chair,
The dreamer awakes, birds fly
The mountains shake their wild hair
Breathing a love song
For the lake and the silent fresh air.