After What We Came After by Kate Tempest
The past can be a cage for mind and heart ‒
imprisoned by the consequence of fear
a devil whispers in another's ear
that shadows lie deep at the root of art.
This island is where all our stories start:
where tempests blow in sudden from the clear,
where noises, voices, love and hope appear,
where history binds and fractures us apart.
For language is a vision and a veil,
a liberator and a bolted door:
the tempest is just that ‒ a roaring gale,
the story is just that - a metaphor,
the island is a cure for all that ails,
the past is simply all that came before.