The Ghent Review Volume1, Number 1, summer 2016 | Page 29

What do you know that you won’t say?
What do you say?
Old man:
What do I say? I say that the night and the moon
Have truths which come alive in the wind. I say
That the moon guards all, holds all, hides all
Until the appointed moment and then
Then much is revealed which is otherwise hidden.
The moon has done this to my heart before
It is doing it again.
Young man:
Again, again, what is happening again?
The face appears as before, then disappears again.
Old man:
I know nothing, but the heart can suspect
What the mind cannot yet embrace.
I think I have been drawn to this place
To be a witness, to see if you can also see
The face within the green and brown leaves
Like a tantalising truth which will not fully reveal itself.
Young man:
There was a shakage in the leaves.
That’s all. There was nothing else to see.
Old man:
No! you saw more than that
And it troubles your bones and flesh
The way beauty always does
And now it works its way into you
Like a worm in an apple.
I see it in your eyes
You also saw the vision
You also saw the face in the hedge
You saw what I saw and are disturbed.