on any morning in Yogya
(after Rob Shackne's a hundred feet)
did you hear the sound
a hundred pairs of feet on the street
marching at dawn?
did you hear the soft beating
of drums and cymbals
getting louder and closer?
did you feel the strength
of all those steps on the ground?
those are the heart beats of this town
don't look with your eyes
for what cannot be seen
just feel it, just listen
those cheers and that laughter
they're ghostly, but not eerie
you hear it in your heart
the voice that lingers
at the back of your mind
a welcome, from this town
sssh, did you hear them
vanishing into the breeze
a cold morning and its mist?
no need to panic or run
if you hear them it merely means
you will come back to Yogya
(after Rob Shackne's a hundred feet)
did you hear the sound
a hundred pairs of feet on the street
marching at dawn?
did you hear the soft beating
of drums and cymbals
getting louder and closer?
did you feel the strength
of all those steps on the ground?
those are the heart beats of this town
don't look with your eyes
for what cannot be seen
just feel it, just listen
those cheers and that laughter
they're ghostly, but not eerie
you hear it in your heart
the voice that lingers
at the back of your mind
a welcome, from this town
sssh, did you hear them
vanishing into the breeze
a cold morning and its mist?
no need to panic or run
if you hear them it merely means
you will come back to Yogya
So beautiful, Chrys. Thank you. The town, the cold morning and the mist. And I imagine the feet marching to Borobudur, and the climb through the 3 worlds.
ReplyDeleteThat's a lovely sequence, of the sound coming and then receding again. A marker of the day.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Rob and Anna :)
ReplyDelete