Poem -

hills adrift

(translated from my Dutch original with help from my wife, Eline Eugenie)

hills adrift

my hands, as words steeped in silence,
reach for the limitless space in your eyes:
green hills basking in white light

wandering among those hills, I watch them
redden – breaking through, rebirthing,
but not in blood,
explosively devoured, altered by their own heat;
they, once rigidly rooted, now turn into waves

floating on ground swells of fire –

world to being

freed from old, scarred skin,
red becomes fertile grey;
the hills once more slowly solidify,
flying proudly these new times

spoken aloud, these silent words warm
my hands resting on your eyes;
I dress myself in your space: green hills
immersed in white light

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