'Ballerina’s Song of the Earth' and Sourton Tor

Beneath Sourton Tor

This poem was inspired after we walked our dog underneath Sourton Tor. It  was quite a wild day, hence the mood of this photo. Somehow the vision of the ballerina just appeared, manifested. in front of me. She was dancing over and dancing across the moorscape and when I returned home, haunted by the image, I had to write the poem. It has been published by Ouroboros and is included in my Collection Tessitura, published 2013, by Shearsman. 

Ballerina’s Song of the Earth

 (for Darcey Bussell)

Someone draws

a circle

pencil-line ornate  in grey

around that empty space

the virtual (veritable) land

where no one is

except

a bird  (lost Bride)

 butterfly

free from its cage

                *

Have you ever (just once)

considered latent (wasted) talent

where words are lost-in-ether

though they may alight on a limb

of branch or perch as sigil on the stalk

of a rose?

Where does the phrase of incomplete text

finish? How long

does it exist in air before

it dies or

drops

to earth dead

stone?

                 *

And no! She couldn’t have been there!

All a figment and that   you know  don’t you

what I mean?   though

bracken was an arena for theatre

The day I saw her on the moor

I’d been considering the

Self

fulfilment

those who say

they can have

and do

everything  anything

as and when

they like   and thinking

how fortunate they must be

Just to the north   high on the crown

of Sorton tor there’s a metamorphosis

of rocks   beneath my feet

this moor-scape edge   grass-hillocks on

green-earth salted with dew

         *

 She sashayed

down from mid-grey skies – Ballerina!

You must have seen her

dancing

on the ground -

demi- plié -

pirouettes en pointe

catch light on her dress
as she skims
  & spirals
her dervish of whirling death

it’s chiffon and satin  a border

of organdie and net   

 shimmer

of  lilac-cerise

blue

  sequins

      butterflying

            everywhere

She’s intent on inner voices

singing the song  

where she went on the night of her final

Farewell to Earth

I caught the last glimpse

her terre à terre     before

she’d gone   one with the hang-glider

behind the tor

the stones

out of view

of sight

and now don’t know

if she came to be part of the poem

to tell us something

or even flew in just for fun

a trick of light    simplicity itself

disguised in a moving text

of ballet-dress

You do know though

She won’t return

Note: Bussell’s last performance with the Royal Ballet in June 2007 was Macmillan’s ballet Song

of the Earth