Definitions

I heard them in the park.

After dark, two glass eyed women

like forgotten trees, waiting.

Through the silence their

voices sang, floating the hills

and swimming the valleys of my youth;

winding the worn out path

to me. I stood there,

for a moment, almost alone.

Thrust back to her voice.

To all of their voices. Those

women of steel

of copper,

of quilted pillows and quiet revolution,

whose laughs could tear a mountain down,

whose lightning  almost certainly had.

In just a drop

of their quilted voice,

I could see the charcoaled skyline rise

and fall before me like lifetimes;

melodic and chaotic.

I walked on. Past those

almost forgotten fragments

of home.

Nia Griffiths, 2017

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