Veil between Lives by Eric Chamberlain
Before the Fall
Falls fed by rivers, arteries to the earth,
have a way of coupling countries,
collecting cultures of people weaving space.
The Schloss Laufen am Rheinfall placement,
purple-fluorescent magnolias posted
in courtyards, panoramic, a sepia storybook
painting—blurred, conducting a gas stream
spraying the grim by a prism spectrum
against the chess positioned rocks.
A family of three forgets to count
contrasting skin bodies in their aqua-seated
craft on the Rhein River. Their son finds
slumber, pillowed his mother’s lap,
tuned into a natural infant mobile, the sonata
of the boat rippling along the silence
of security. A white stork is standing
at attention on a rock at water’s edge—
soldiers once stood by these shores.
A crescendo of Latin and Germanic
birthed tones in the boat finds euphony
as the river waves, whirling proximity
harnessing allegro eight-side compass
seesaws. There are no resembling raincoats
here. The family focuses on filming
themselves, boat dancing, video face
gymnastics on their phones as no one
is watching, no empty still stares—
while whisks of white river crests compete
with cloud shapes, clashing against the falls’
base, drenching the family as morning dew.
The Path We Choose
This morning at Clapham Common
next to the Temperance Fountain
a man in a Coach plaid type jumper
matching Kango black slacks
is dancing Sound system steadied
on the bench before him pumping
his funk prodding pigeons at a distance
Coffee cup clutched in his left hand
as he is praise-dancing
down a church aisle
he is on stage
at a speakeasy jazzy-blues
juke-joint
he is vibrating his sunny soul
along the park path
this chilly morning
rays reaching my face Out of bed
do we jump up or roll out Are we
sprightly Are we stroppy Do we
soar with the starlings or are we a falcon
Lighting will strike does that mean
we cannot dance in its strobe light
We will die We make enduring decisions
on how we choose to live a rabbit
traversing a raw Spring field sensory
suspension draws stillness Do we
forget to hear coastal wave clashes
see the amber shades of sunset feel
heartbeats embrace from absence The man
is shaking his hips and singing
I open my burning eyes
from a daydream but he is still dancing
About the author:
Mervyn Seivwright writes to balance social consciousness & poetry craft for humane growth. He is a nomad from a Jamaican family, born in London-England, and left for America at age 10, now residing in Schopp-Germany. He is a Spalding University MFA grad and has appeared in AGNI, American Journal of Poetry, Salamander Magazine, African American Review, and 61 other journals across 9 countries, receiving recognition as a 2021 Pushcart Nominee & Voices Israel’s Rose Ruben Poetry Competition Honorable-Mention. His collection “Stick, Hook, and a Pile of Yarn,” is available for pre-order through Broken Sleep Books.
www.clippings.me/mervynseivwright
In the artist’s words:
Eric Chamberlain. “Wraitheon, digital realm of the Empyreal flow, ghosts of flowers singing within living architecture and currents of music slithering through noctilucent angel sighs.” This piece represents the unknown spiritual evolution that invisibly shapes our lives. As an artist, I seek to show multiple figures, ideas, perspectives and layers at once, combing the physical and the spiritual. These images were created digitally, with the exception of Cinetecture, which is from a series of works comprising sculpture, painting and photography. My goal as an artist is twofold: create an expressive personal outlet for the flow of energy and vision within me while evoking or stirring something in the viewer emotionally, psychologically, spiritually.
Please see more at AE