Copyright © Alison Eastley, 2004. All Rights Reserved.THE PRACTICE OF PROPAGATING LIGHT
'And beware lest you lift your eyes to heaven, and when you see the sun and the moon
and the stars, all the host of heaven, you will be drawn away...' - Deuteronomy 4.19
In sacrifices, everything is a sign: whether the animal goes willingly
to the altar and bleeds to death quickly, whether or not the fire flares
swiftly, how the tail curls and the bladder bursts a dream, a stumble,
a chance encounter, even an unexpected drop of rain and this day
feels like the sound of your name caught in passing. There is nothing
I can do and it doesn't matter that I've seen the oil from our love
making slick on your skin, the way your face shone as if yesterday
was a vision and you hadn't forgotten the depth of death's ambition,
the smell of fear displaced in every step that breaks the seal of night
so I wake with grief written with unbearable grace, almost as if
I believe in fate or that love has many different names,
perhaps as many as angels which only reminds me of light. Yes,
I was dazzled and yes, I shouted your name. I saw the sun and
worshipped the moon, I howled like crazy at every falling star and
never thought of anything wise let alone how to say goodbye.