The Peacock

'The Peacock' by Phil Pinder

There are no endings,

branches certainly,

a life stops.

Time slows and then,

spins back

up to speed.

Each day divides into

dark light,

fractured dread hope.

New sap-light rises,

half-glimpsed,

a new dawn –

The Peacock of morning

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This poem is based on the loss and healing after the death of my father last year. It is a reflection on the cyclical nature of loss and hope, in short and long episodes, how this cycle slowly resolves into a healing acceptance (Advices & queries 30). There is also a spiral of meaning in terms of the peacock of morning – both the bright dawning of the sun, the alarm sound of a peacock as an awakening and, I think most tellingly, that the peacock display feathers are always there, but both you and the peacock have to be in the ‘same place’ for you to notice them.

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