Cardiff, Wales

Cardiff Bay

The stiff gray winds of Cardiff Bay
push along white swans
Yellow & green grass dance in the wetlands.
The sun is up.
All is in motion now.
There is no solid ground once you leave shore.
To venture forth
You must
feel the waves, and
divine the path.
It’s not ballet
But a tango
Where the next step is made best by
Paying attention
to what’s
before you,
in you,
around you,
the music your soul is tuned to hear.

(c) Allegra Jordan 2013. Thanks to Benita Ryan for explaining the tango to me.

The wind & the waterfall

In wild, woolly Wales
I saw the wind blow
A waterfall back up its hill.
The rain was hard and
Kicked the stream down the steep hill
To where it could not
But fall down
That rocky canyon.
But that swollen stream met its match at
A slated edge not fifteen feet from the roadside
Where the wind
Refused to cooperate with
And the water, with nowhere to turn
Did a back flip.
And flew part into the wind to go to new places
And part back into the stream to try again.
I’ve been that waterfall.
And by right and reason I was going down
Pulled by gravity,
Kicked by some,
Pushed by my own failings,
Falling rapidly in my despair.
The breath that refused to let me fall
Caught me by surprise.
It flung me back with confidence
And refused my surrender to gravity.
I became mist.
I became a different stream.
And the shocked onlookers
-One of whom was me-
Had a new story to tell.

(c) Allegra Jordan 2013