Ice in the wind this storm black night

Stings me awake

To walk the sodden way again.

Again this ex-communication

No black candles, no witches’ curses,

No lifting of the gloom

Just shivering in a room.

Imagining an iceflower

Shimmering in the heat

Of a living body

This genesis of the heart

Tells me

‘we are not who we think we are’

 A phoenix made in time - 

Of water, bread and wine.