To brother julian
held in belmarsh
I transmit this vision
of a northern lake
ruffled by wind,
pebbles clicking
like a key in the lock
Alone on the beach
with fall in the air
I skirt melancholy
by recalling your exploits
in revealing state secrets,
bamboozling the spooks
while concealing sources
Dry leaves crackle
like rumors in the pen;
like squads of cops
in the prison yard
heavy clouds gather.
The water is still warm
but I care not to swim
After years of captivity
your meditation may be
well advanced – enough
to pierce the mandala
of drab cinder block
that rings your heart,
bright flower in gloom