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Wordview 2020: Avalon
This boat on the shore
has no sail or paddle,
I have not seen it before.
It seems to be waiting
We are four. Then three.
Hands touch cold rock.
Her eyes open, don’t see
our vigil turn ceremony.
Breath slows to the calm
of no breeze, not a ripple
stirs the surface. Our palms
untether. We let her go.
Recording provided as part of Poetry Archive Now: Wordview 2020. Used by permission of the author. Photographer taken by Rob Summerhill.
A special thank you to our WordView 2020 poets.
Chair of the Judging Panel, Imtiaz Dharker, says: “The hundreds of entries we received blew in to the Archive like a breath of pure, unpolluted air from all over the world, revealing something of the time we are living in, some telling it straight, some slant. It was exciting to check in to the Poetry Archive’s Youtube channel every morning and come upon one unexpected voice after another."
See the collection