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I

Reg wished me to go with him to the field,
I paused because I did not want to go;
But in her quiet way she made me yield
Reluctantly, for she was breathing low.
Her hand she slowly lifted from her lap
And, smiling sadly in the old sweet way,
She pointed to the nail where hung my cap.
Her eyes said: I shall last another day.
But scarcely had we reached the distant place,
When o'er the hills we heard a faint bell ringing;
A boy came running up with frightened face;
We knew the fatal news that he was bringing.
I heard him listlessly, without a moan,
Although the only one I loved was gone.


II

The dawn departs, the morning is begun,
The trades come whispering from off the seas,
The fields of corn are golden in the sun,
The dark-brown tassels fluttering in the breeze;
The bell is sounding and the children pass,
Frog-leaping, skipping, shouting, laughing shrill,
Down the red road, over the pasture-grass,
Up to the school-house crumbling on the hill.
The older folk are at their peaceful toil,
Some pulling up the weeds, some plucking corn,
And others breaking up the sun-baked soil.
Float, faintly-scented breeze, at early morn
Over the earth where mortals sow and reap--
Beneath its breast my mother lies asleep.
I was the victim.
I was the beaten.
I was the ravaged.
I was forsaken.

I had no faith.
I had no strength.
I put the smile on to cover it...

But now... Something has changed..
I never felt this way.

I am happy.
I am strong.
I am faith-full.
I am me.

I let go of fear
I let go of blame
I let go of anger
I let go of shame

I let myself see
The value in me.
I TOOK WALK TO BULLER BEACH
I COULD NOT WALK ON THE SAND WITH MY BARE FEET
THE WAVES BROUGHT TO THE SHORE TAMPONS, CONDOMS AND PLASTIC
EVERYWHERE WAS CHAOTIC
THE SEAS HAVE BECOME A DUMPING SITE
WITH ******* PILED TO AN UNIMAGINABLE HEIGHT
MEN, WOMEN AND CHILDREN DEFECATING ON ROCKS
WITH NO SHAME
NO WONDER ITS NAME
TURTLES , DOLPHINS AND SEA BIRDS ARE DYING
THEY SWALLOW PLASTICS AND DIE FROM CHOKING
IF FISHER MEN ARE CATCHING PLASTIC TRASH
HOW CAN THEY MAKE MORE CASH?
CHANGE UR WAYS
AVOID THE TAKEAWAYS
Infectious wounded words, gargled grief,
ring leaders in foul filled filth,
door opening to the left of the blackened
wallpaper, stooping from its support

Floor, a waterlogged mess of yellowed
****, stabbing stink, suffocating, like flayed
corpses, acidity burning in the back alleys
of wounded worn out hearts on sick leave

Cowering in crumbled crevices, filmy outlines
of themselves, insides outgrown fulfillment,
faded, grasped their gasp and sold it,
folded into walls....gross with age

I would have cried but, energyless, I'd fallen
out of my body long ago, beat the light from
my eyes, layed down in yellowed tears of ****
alongside the ratted out corridors of squalor
Sorry for the black feel to this...not about me...thank god, yet others...living daily in such deprevation
There’s a hermit in me
and a flying god too.
And a dancer, who dances on the bones
of his lovers…
gently dancing life into them.

There’s a liar in me
and a repentant thief too.
Who tried to stuff precious moments
into his pockets…

There’s a handsome man in me,
bold, strong, and true.
There’s a woman in me too…
delicately twisting in her sleep.
And somewhere, there’s still a small boy
who can’t find the right size shoes.

There are rules in me that have no purpose…
small print in search of a home.
And there’s a warrior in me
who plays the harp before battle,
then rushes late into the fray.

There are tapestried walls in me
and marble halls,
formal gardens,
and servant’s chambers.
And there’s a simple cottage
I can’t quite find.

There’s a psychic in me
who reads the future
but is sometimes unable
to turn the page.
And there’s a mysterious poet in me
who finds words only at night.

And there’s a seeker of truth
who gets
lost
in
the
snow.
Sometimes,
when the Divine
enters your Heart

It’s like a failed love
showing up on
your doorstep

with promises
to resolve all
bad feelings.

But more often,
it’s a stray cat
crossing your threshold:

she rushes past you
and heads
straight
for
the
milk,

As though she had lived there
all along.
With stones in my eyes
and your flesh
between my teeth,
I rot a little more.

My plants weep and wander
as I try to
conjure your smells
from the cold.

Grey is the color of your skin
and the night is thick
with our black blood.

Closing my eyes,
breathing deep,
my hands remember
the curve of your hip
and the miles between us
are molecules.

Another breath and
amber fills my mouth.
Tea bags drying
and good whiskey
with limes
and lilac
and bleach
and mastiffs
and skin
all burn in me now
with enough heat
to tighten the flesh
around my ribs.

I cannot stand this empty
air and the weight
of our nothing
has stamped me flat.

No cherry blossoms here
as the lies
cover the soil,
poisoning the root.

Another breath,
my head tilts back
and mouth opens
in remembrance of our sacrament.
(Theme, Variations, and Coda)

Theme – Andante sognante*  
I dreamed last night...
It was a dream
Like one I've had before
Variations on a theme
My colleagues standing at my door

Guitarists all, I bid them in
And soon it's time to play
My teacher first, each one in turn
They play the night away

Var. 1- Agitato
But as they play I look around
For my guitar is gone
I look and look but cannot find
Then comes my time...   “I can't go on!”

This is absurd.  How can I play?
(What?  Did I hide it by design?
Is this my “out” as light breaks day,
An ironclad alibi?)
“I can't perform, no, not today.
I'll have to play another time.”

Var. 2 – Appassionato
My time has come, and there I sit
With my guitar in hand
And wonder what the hell to play
My mind a porous shifting sand

Completely unprepared I sit
And pray for intervention
I make up some simplistic ****
And play it with “emotion”

Var. 3 – Allegro con brio e subito calamitoso
This time round, it's different
I really want to play.
I'm ready, I'm inspired!
I'll play till break of day

I'll show them what I'm made of
They'll marvel and they'll cry
But my guitar just falls apart
“What?  Why now?  Why? WHY?”

The neck breaks off, the body splits,
the strings are hanging limply
I'm foiled again, I cannot play
I'm ******* (to put it simply)

Coda - Andantino Contemplativo
What does it mean, this silly dream
This wild subconscious spectre?
What nourishment for soul to glean
From such netherworldly nectar?

Hmmm...

I think that I should spend more time
With hands on wood and string
To reconnect with touch and sound
To let my veiled heart sing

To feel, and set those feelings free
Catharsis, true release
My sheepish nature put to bed
My denigration now to cease

For I have something bold to say
Now my true voice is ready
I'll sing again through wood and string
Rich and full and steady

Alive with truths that transcend words
Ego now at bay
Connecting with the universe
It's time for me to play

*Fine
I teach guitar at the University of Prince Edward Island... in my dreams I'm a student again, usually unprepared, reluctant to play.
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