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On ‘Gate’: a painting by Patricia Wright

Jeanne Ceridwen


Admit this fluid tapestry of light,
inscribed and traced by lined,
alluring rune. Upon an unlit page
marks may be made, our secret gate
displayed. By spiralled slanted tread
we may embark, upon the cloud
which is unknowing; a misted field,
a lacework cumulated, flayed,
translucent, half-revealed.

The wizened candles raised, as passed
unending scribes our dawn preceding
to trace the universal page, impelling
us to realise; we stumble there,
amend, partake, in this to weave
and fray their hallowed thread.

Is 'INRI' offered on this cross?
What need to know this, and depict
exactitude to fathom ecstasy,
transcribe this limpid cloud to earth,
and choose a step beyond the gate
that on the far horizon has no post
on which to lean, or lettered path to bear?

Against this cloud of pattern and delight
stands stile or bar, or banner blazed;
we may stay, mouths agape, and gasp before
or, breath stopped, richly enter there.

Jeanne Ceridwen