Railay Number 4 - Princess Lagoon
As the morning sun starts to bake
the red earth of these hills,
we set out.
Clasping rock and rope,
we embed our digits into this land
the red earth of these hills,
we set out.
Clasping rock and rope,
we embed our digits into this land
as the mud embeds beneath our finger-nails.
I am shoeless and bare chested,
to let the clay paint my skin
with the story of this journey.
This climb is not about a summit,
but an isolated depth, an interior sea-level
inside this peninsula's ribcage.
So we re-descend the steep trachea walls,
and listen to the breathing path
whistle and giggle in playful respiration.
If you are fascinated with the echo
of this palaeolithic chamber,
that vocal selfie-stick,
the waters of the lagoon will
freeze in interrupted stillness,
shy of the volume of trespassing tourists.
But, if you listen in silence,
long enough for your feet
to sink beneath the surface
the heart beneath the water begins to beat,
and the lagoon will rouse unto its pious dance,
with darting fish, red-breasted birds and unseen monkeys,
whilst a gargantuan web soundly glistens
as the sun pierces through
from the world of the exterior.
We, starting as spectators, are beckoned
by the mysterious green tinted waters,
to inhale this permeating essence,
and become,
ourselves,
part of the mystery.
I wrote this poem after we hiked to the lagoon. I also made this video using footage and photos we took while we were there.
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