‘Edinburgh, Then’

Elizabeth Agre

Edinburgh, Then 

We thanked the hand that sprinkled gorse on Arthur and let wild Narcissus bloom, let him open his bright yellow mouth to the re-emergent sun. 

The cool, damp earth held us upright. The clock gave us grace. Friend, come over, stay a while. Linger by the heart, won’t you? And maybe the fire too. 

A gentle web spun across the city. A mother’s long arms waiting to catch a falling child. One fine thread always connected to that of another. 

Well, the clock had to run out of grace. And the daffodils died. And we have lost much of it now, to time and distance and ego and the slow drift. 

All wine turns to vinegar, that much we know. Still, on a crisp spring morning, won’t we look up like Narcissus? Mouths wide open for the sun? 

Wide open for it all?

Faria Basher is a (transplant) New Yorker and a woman of many, varying interests. Much of her life has been nomadic in nature, with time spent across the USA, the UK, Bangladesh, and the Philippines. She incorporates themes from this in her work.