Tears of salt, ties of
blood tight; father and daughter
no distance can part.

ice ... ice ... ice ... ice
Nothing. De nada.
Zilch. Zero.
My creativity's out to lunch,
just as it has been for 18 months.

I don't know what to do.

I'm scared, you know.
Words are my rock,
my port in a stormy sea.
I am stuck in the ice
and it ain't very nice.

I don't know what to do.

I've looked in here
and I've looked over there.
It's like I've died a death.
My heart is beating
and I'm still eating.

I don't know what to do.

Perhaps I should turn
my face to the sun
and bathe in its warming light.
Maybe that will reignite the flame,
melt the ice and I will write once again.

Yes...now I know what to do.

The light is the truth
Religion says

I'm not sure that's the case

For it's in the dark
I really see

infinity

no beginning
no end

"I do love you, you know, love
It's just too late
to do anything about it now."

Heartfelt words spoken
at the end of a day
that'd seen six heart attacks
come and go

Across the hours
your silence spoke volumes
marching time as it did through your pain

Eyes closed to the world
until those last words
spoken with such passion
as I steeled myself to leave

You grasped my hand
held it tight to your chest
your gaze like a cloak encircling me

Gravity carried my tears
anguish spotting the floor
yours a lifetime of sorrows
staining the pillow

How I walked away
I will never know
my heart breaking with each step

Death was expected
the very next day
already it was knocking
but you didn't open the door

Not for another
forty-four days
finally leaving wrapped in my embrace

Ready you were
after our time together
your room in the hospice
our port in the storm

We laughed and we cried
we talked and forgave
we journeyed far and deep

You had said it was too late
to show me your love
but truly it wasn't
you know, Pa

You did an excellent job
at the end of the day
and in your own way
my  life through

I may have nothing material
to remind me of you
but my memories will never fade

pacing
pacing
down, up

around
the house
a tiger caged

caged?
no...
I am free

caged?
yes...
in the turmoil of my mind

no idea
which way to
turn

no idea
what to
do

go?
stay?
go?

will he even
know
who I am?

does it matter?
it does
to me

we don't treat
animals
like this

prison we'd
be in
if we did

but when
it comes
to those we love

we have to
stand by
helpless

hour on hour
moment by moment
watching

my father
stripped
of dignity

dying
atom by atom
trying so hard to stay

why Pa?

bed wetting
dribbling
loss of lucidity

do I go?
do I stay?
do I go?

tiger caged
paces
into the darkness

concrete canyons
threaded
with ribbons of sky

streams
of humanity
flowing between

multi-coloured
side-by-side
kilometres apart

lives touching
but not
connecting

an unsustainable journey

now
here
in the space of my life
I look without, within

I’ve bungy jumped
without a cord
do I plummet?
no, I soar

the fear I feel
in the depths of the night
liberates,
doesn’t tie

the joy I feel
at being me
lights up my soul
puts the sun in my eyes

the hunger I felt
for so long has gone
and its nothing
to do with dinner

it’s everything to do
with following my heart
and my dreams
through which I'm now free to wander

symphony of sound
a discordant composition
orchestra on cosmic stage
witching hour to dawn

woken by screeching wind
twisting that way and this
manic banshees
rampaging

in through the window
chilling my body with cold damp fingers
shutting them out
they howl even louder

joined later by rain
incessant drumbeats
endless cadence
on hard earth

lightening
synthesized energy
streaking uncontrollably
around nature's concert hall


listening in silence
watching in awe
standing ovation
applauding unseen hands

tossing and turning
in that chambered space
between
wakefulness and sleep

exhaustion
moving like molasses
in my veins

no way out

fingers of light
one by one reaching out
gently caressing the sky
with dawn

birdsong
note by note soaring up
softly filling the air
with song

this Sunday morning
last Sunday morning

the death of night
bringing the birth of day
in the cycle of life
where time waits for no one

Wrapped up in red
and tied with silver
a small painting
you made in school

Given with a smile
and a whole lot of love
Van Gogh's Sunflowers
don't hold a torch to this

I may not be a mother
nor a sister
nor an aunt
I may not have family to visit

But ...

7 years old
you prove so well
that family do not have
to share blood

I need to write you a letter
its content will hurt you
I'm sure
But there are words that need to be voiced
Pain that has rattled around in my soul
for five decades left unsaid

Your end is near
four months they said
that was almost three hundred days back
You are holding on
by the strength of your will
and here I come to rock your boat

Or will I

Am I so sure what I need to air
will bring a storm to your port
Perhaps this is just me clinging to hope
like a castaway hangs on to a plank
I have always wanted with all of my heart
to know you loved me, your daughter

Maybe I need to accept once and for all that you don't
because you don't know how to

or maybe you don't want to

Should I write my letter I ask myself
as I let my thoughts flow onto this page
What is there to gain if you will not talk
you have always refused to engage in the past
You know you have little time left
but why should this be a reason to change

Perhaps the time has come for me to say
'I release you, Pa'

and walk away …

lost

in the labyrinth
of memory

knocking

on doors that
cannot be opened

grasping

for fragments
forever out of reach

seeking

what can never
be recalled

knowing

you know
and yet you don't

so lost

in the moonlight of your life
your skin drapes loose over your bones
documenting your existence
and wrapping up memories
that you have determined will remain untold
leaving me wondering what you might have said
and now never will

wandering
through the shadows
of my childhood

trying
so hard
to create light from the darkness

reading
pain like Braille
all alone

listening
for laughter
hearing only tears

where
were you
when I reached out

looking
the other way
pretending all was well

ignoring
the bruises
deaf to my cries

running
is what I have been doing
three decades away from the land of my birth

hoping
that distance
would erase the past

pretending
it didn't happen
but it did

returning
at last
to look into the abyss

embracing
for the first time in fifty years
the sum total of who I am

giving
thanks for the past
for all that it is


looking
into the mirror
and finally seeing who is there

Confusion
enemy of sanity,
champion of creation.

Broken heart,
mended over time.
Laughter and tears
different sides of the same coin.

Lack of honesty
fear of transparency.
Living a lie,
fearing the truth.

Words run through my mind
like an uncontrollable train.
To say, or not?
To say or not?
Wheels going endlessly round.

Convert the energy
Into something more productive.
Would be sensible, no?

To the hell with sensibility.

Confusion reigns.

four sleeps
four more sleeps
and then that day arrives
the day
if you are not careful
that reminds you
of all you are not

you are not a mother
nor a sister
nor an aunt
you do not have family
you can go and visit

when you wake
on that day
there is no laughter echoing
nor  paper ripping
as presents are opened
before the kettle has boiled

instead
your house
echoes with emptiness
you will eat your turkey and trimmings alone
no debate about who sits where at the table
nor fights for supremacy of the remote control

please

do not be sad for me

reframe your matrix
the way I do

my heart beats with the gift of life
my memory is filled
with the richness of days gone by
and each moment I breathe
the only moment any of us has
is filled with belief and shaped by joy

I am not a mother
nor a sister
nor an aunt
I do not have family
I can go and visit
I will eat alone on Christmas Day

but what I am is me

and for that I am blessed
as you are for being you

the setting sun
blood red orb falling into mercury sea
soft breeze tracing your skin like a lover’s caress
stillness
so pure

inky blackness falls
an endless arch peppered with stars
planets blink
flying fish dance
phosphorescence sparkles green
luminous in the wake of your footfall

and so you sit
breathing
absorbing
the very essence of earth, sea and sky

the moon rises full
swollen with fecundity
silence embraces you
life’s negativity is cleansed from your soul

and so you sit
dreaming
wishing on a star

the sun rises
pink, peach, soft
enveloping your being
giving birth to a brand new day

to a brand new you

50 quid a night
Bleak walls
dirty curtains
'Thieves abound' signs.
What do you expect?

Rumbling
deep and dark
Boeings vying
with Airbus
for air space

Around me
surrounded
held hostage by
a mix of humanity
that defies belief

Tats & shaven eyebrows
Over there a Rolex
Business people
thin on the ground
Holidaymakers

construction gangs
football teams
flight crew...
No pilots, mind
Families

And then there are
the lonesomes
like me
and people shouting
into their digital fruits

Only 50 quid a night
What do you expect?
What you've got...
A melting pot of humanity
In all its gore & gloriousness

Laptop lens views world;
death by nature, death by man.
Hearts weep as souls fly.