A spell to bless the silence

According to John Montague this is what poetry is. A spell to bless the silence.

In the silent wind whipped night last night at Trigg my tears felt like burning icicles on my face and my eyes stung behind my glasses. But it was beautiful. To the right, all the way to Mullalloo the lights twinkled and to the left, I imagined my cranes.

And now, listening to the gentle, patient voice of Mick Harvey (what a find!) I am feeling okay. Clean and lighter somehow.

Some things I have learned recently:

• If someone says things enough, even if they are blatantly wrong, sooner or later they will become belief inside you
• A whispered compliment can bring a smile for days after it is heard
• There is a constellation called Norma. Seriously.
• Real friends don't say I told you so. And they make you noodle soup. And tea.

Standing under that great dome of Monday night, reasonably far from light-noise, or light-pollution I hefted up my burden above my head and saw the stars behind my eyelids.