Julie Hollit
On William Barton
I heard him today.
Not the first impact.
Before and each time
words stop. Fallen
from meaningless
into bottomless resonant pit.
To fullness.
And there, cavern-suspended,
my breathless heart,
clinging without effort to
spirit,
ecstasy,
awe.
Reluctant to describe
sacred sound brilliance,
throat-aching gossamer-tremor
rippling to my core.
Singing my soul-longing.
Carrying to whitefella-forgotten shared-country.
Tissue-fabric truth and
breath.
