(Leaf 27) – Reflection
This poem connects with the
sentiments expressed in Leaf 9. I feel there is some sort of affinity akin between
my ancient British ancestry and the Shintō veneration for quiet forests
and in-land bodies of water, in which earth and sky are mirrored and somehow transitional. The stillness
found deep within woodlands is a very special sort of silence, a kind of
solitude which can be intensely calm, but can also be tinged with a strangely
indefinable sense of foreboding. A low note sounding inaudibly, resonating.
Felt in internal fathoms. That strange sensibility that the deep, surrounding forest
is alive and breathing, and has unseeable, steely eyes – which are watching
you.
In the still surface
of the water –
the leafless limbs
of a silver birch.
