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SIGRID

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In your wake, the air

Will fill itself in;

The air you imagine

Is water, water

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You may move to,

Keeping abreast of it,

Riding it with ease;

Wading through

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What surrounds you,

The air around each stand

Of bamboo. And you are

As moved as the poles

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Weaving here with pleated leaves

Moved by the music of the breeze.

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BEWILDERNESS

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Through the bushes’ wedge,

Cover to a string of falls,

Water finds the divide

Between a valley’s walls,

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Moistening both sides

As it slips from ledge to ledge

To pour into some pool

Whose cold and sombre depths

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Still reflect the bright

Seam of the fall above.

Undersides of rocks

Repeat this wavy light.

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Here dragonflies may pause,

Critical of how ungainly

Evolution has made us:

Pallid creatures teetering across

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Uneven stratification;

Our kitsch towels littering the creek.

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Two poems written during a masters’ workshop conducted by Sigrid Van Tilbeurgh and Murat Erdemsel at Tango Valley, La Frayssinette, Plaisance, France.

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