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One Thursday in October

In the life before,

the boy was given a name.

 

He was born before and

beyond borders —

 

below the watchtower

and within the walled garden,

 

the first-born son

of the seventh seed

 

of the summerhouse.

 

Four black feathers fell

from his mother’s hand

 

four black feathers

carried away by

 

The Winds of Ellan Vannin —

 

beyond the gate of

Moreland Close

 

over the tender boughs of

The McCrystyn Tree

 

across the eyes of

The Irish Sea

 

through his father’s body

to take refuge 

 

in his mother’s womb.

 

This was

 

The First Migration —

 

that traveling wound

in the blood

 

to land softly at

The Border of Passing Clouds.

 

 

It was a Thursday —

 

a Thursday in October.

 

____

 

A singular world nestled

briefly in the embrace

of a name.

 

Words spoken where we

carry with us

 

all the terrible beauty

of the past.

 

Teraura kisses his heart

through the veil of his chest —

 

her lips carry

the fragrance of identity

that always travels with us,

 

in the collective memory

of being.

Mauatua places

four black feathers

 

on his dark black hair.

 

Four black feathers

his crown of thorns —

 

four black thorns for his crown of hair.

 

This second Christ,

fallen from the

 

Deemster of Man

 

his naked body descending

into the sea

 

beyond borders —

 

our paradise lost.

 

____

 

In the life before,

the man was given a name.

 

He died before and

beyond borders —

 

he died the first-born son

of the seventh seed,

 

his death beyond

 

The Border of the Moon —

 

long since sunk beneath

the ocean of dreams.

 

It was April twenty-one

eighteen thirty-one —

 

 

It was a Thursday.

First published in Impspired Magazine 2021.