In the news this week - a lion on the loose in Belfast, in a park, near the zoo - where all lions counted and accounted for - all cages closed and locked - yet enough sightings for police to advise to approach with caution.
The thought lion. The one that got away. The one on the tip of your tongue. The eternal complaint, the silent roar the caged ones never make. The dream lion they send out to roam on their behalf. Conjured from sand and dropped lolly sticks. Brought to life by midnight incantations breathed through soft whiskered lips under Irish skies where anything is possible. A new king of Ireland with a leafy crown - sent to battle for sun and savannah and meals to eat on the go. Treading grass carpets under blue sky roofs - the lion that comes and goes while your eyes are closed. Golden shadows, wild wishes, sun ghosts. A myth to keep you on your toes.
Postscript - another false alarm - the big cat turned out to be a big dog, sandy coloured but otherwise harmless.
4 comments:
beautiful prose poem imaginig of dream lions....
An Irish Lion on the loose - a myth no less - turned out to be a sandy coloured dog - but the myth is strange thing and not at all always harmless - Protect the dreams - thats sometimes all we have, to get to other side of where ever we want to go from here.
chilling...thought lions...ooh...x
...and this one too.
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