I SEE YOU'VE MADE A GATE

I SEE YOU’VE MADE A GATE

I see you’ve made a gate

of the skeleton of the wing of the bird

you should have set free.

And it’s closed like a book you haven’t read.

The wall of a garden you haven’t

found your way into.

No one can show you

how to offer your heart

to the black rose of your blood

in total eclipse. I could point out

a few stars, and tell you their names

but that was hierarchies ago

and now they’re waiting for the metaphors

to come from your own mouth.

To say them so deeply

you can’t help breaking into light.

PATRICK WHITE