Fy Duw, A David Jones Pastiche | Gareth Culshaw

I said Oh! where is the song?
I looked side to side.
(He’s teased me in the past
with his shadows in sunlight.)
I knocked the door for his answer.
I have knocked since childhood
waiting to be announced.
I have walked my feet over the paltry tarmac.
I have travelled along the dead leaves
ancestry beliefs from book to song.
I have blinded my brain
searching the sky and sun.
I have sensed His bruises
in wood and stone.
I have glanced at technology.
I have listened to words
without bigotry.
I have kept my breath
when in the unknown.
I can walk past Him
when my head is in the next century.

I have gazed at the sky to see the birds in case I might
hear the voices of the earth, in case I might believe that
God is in their throats. I have sung to the oak tree, be my
father and for the grassy fields I thought I sensed some
murmurings of His creature, but Fy Duw, my ears heard the silence
of mining and the horrifying coin a coliseum-glue….O Fy Duw.

Gareth lives in Wales. His first collection, The Miner is available from Futurecycle. His second is due in 2020. His main critics are his dogs, Jasper & Lana who prefer sticks to poems.

He can be found on Twitter at @CulshawPoetry and his website, gculshaw.co.uk

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