For Leonard Cohen
On the precipice of my fourteenth year,
amid the wreckage of my little temple,
a gentle, silver shaman sung to me,
from just the other side of intimacy.
Back then it was a revelation,
that anyone could walk so long
along this smoky road,
and still be beautiful.
I could have been in Sumer,
sitting at the lyrist’s feet.
Ud rea, ud sura rea,
in those days, those distant days.
I discover it again, each time I scatter,
that duende with his shadowed summons
‘Come back, come back to me,
dance along the pilgrim paths
to help rebuild this diasporic heart.’
Becca Miles lives in York and, after writing as a hobby for the last decade or so, has in the last year begun performing her poetry at the Spoken Word open mic. She was recently featured in More Exhibitionism, an anthology of works published by Stairwell Books .