When I was returned
to my limits
There was no moon out
And the stars
lay headfirst in the sea.
I am in space now
in the space
of heredity and sound.
Each billowing
of me
a hundred living lights
in local dark.
I have tried to reconcile you
as the sea slides
its chequered mask
under my skin.
You have given me
These felted words
still raining.
The memory of your clumsy
touch
the opposite of jade.
The sullen sound
of water
from the smoky hosting shore
A hearthways flame
of diligence and competence
drywarm.
My heart is turquoise for my child
And green for you.
Green as the fronds of sand drunk
sealife marking their
inheritance of hallowed health.
I love you now
Here where I can wish you well.
I watch you make your footprints
on the spangled shore
and go on home.
I sing at them
so that the stars come out
within their porous grains
to seem a numinous
and multiple
thing stood.
Then I return
to the luminous walls
of my blue inheritance
and move
with swimming
the undulating world.
Dr Joanna Gilar is an academic, writer and storyteller whose work explores the intersection of stories and the wild world. She has a PhD in fairy tales and ecological storytelling from the University of Chichester, and has spent ten years teaching language and literature at Charles University, Prague and colleges across the Czech Republic. Now based in Sussex, she works as a guest lecturer at the University of Chichester, and spends the rest of her time looking after her baby boy, writing about home-making and parenting, and performing poems and stories at venues across Europe and the UK.
Occulum 