Nocturnal noise

illness won’t a crater cross
in sleep the soul the body tosses
how deeply all our breaths remember
what our feet would fast forget
waking charmed
like chimes unwound
hours stricken
dreams unbound
singing strangers from the deep
Echo from craters where illness
sleeps.

Dr T.P. Wilkinson writes, teaches History and English, directs theatre and coaches cricket between the cradles of Heine and Saramago. He is also the author of Church Clothes, Land, Mission and the End of Apartheid in South Africa. Read other articles by T.P..