he asked a question
and without waiting
for a response
drew three cards
from that divinatory deck
usually carrying as little
meaning as a tossed coin
scoffed at and swiftly ignored
this time seemed to tell
a recognisable tale
unexpected in its providence
a fortune perhaps
to favour the brave

the hanging man
with his eight swords
and his eight wands
these cards showed him
the start of a journey
not necessarily a life
turned upside-down
instead that a change
of perspective is needed
the octet of swords
unveiled his cage
of indecision
uncertainty and fear
a need to upset
the balance of the inert
a reasoning for destruction
in order to create
and those upright wands
carrying with them
such signs of movement
a willingness to decide
a commitment to progress

either that or
the pack was simply
reshuffled and dealt
again and again
until it foretold
that which needed
to be heard

a gentle patter of rain
tapping politely
at the window
not tempestuously
but imposing enough
in its constancy
a passive aggressive reminder
from the heavens
of our ultimate
lack of control
such a minor obstacle
and yet it tips
the scales of
what was planned
or hoped for
to something perhaps
unforeseen
not yet considered
i thought i had
no intention of
leaving the house
but find myself
rolling my eyes
with huff and sigh
cursing the grey
for ruining
that potential

by lunchtime
windscreens glisten with
newly welcomed sunlight
reflected blindingly
from droplets that linger
despite the fresh warmth
carried in the convective air
it no longer appears
to be "coat weather"
though the ground
is still puddled
to squelch or
splash underfoot
perhaps i could venture
outside after all
with a motivation
fuelled by this
latest change
but for all the blue
stretching the sky
there is still that
darkened mass of cloud
hanging heavy in the distance
unable to tell if it has
been weathered already
or is another downpour
yet to come

it turns out
Mother Nature is
just as indecisive
as the rest of us
it seemed that
she had finished
with her winter
her day-long frosts
and biting winds
no longer the need
to cocoon oneself
in protective layers
when venturing out
for nothing more than
a bottle of milk
of down-stuffed coats
and twice-wrapped scarves
woollen hats
and thermal socks

it felt like
we had moved on
our spring had arrived
just in time
we could enjoy
the brisk early mornings
despite their chill
safe in the knowledge
that the gentle touch
of afternoon warmth
would shortly follow
the biggest setback
to be expected
was an intermittent
morning-to-evening downpour
dampening our anticipation
though only temporarily
of any plans we had made
until the puddles were dry
or had drained away

it may have been
a false start
but i'm loathe to say
we were tricked
or call it
an outright lie
those brightened days
were a welcome change
enjoyed by all
we were simply
carried away by
the primaveral allusions
lulling us enough
to forget the cold
and its significance
catching us unprepared
and exposed
like those delicate flowers
so recently bloomed
buried for now
beneath this weight
of snow

at crossroads I was, unable to choose
where I would go, and what I could lose
the clock was ticking, the other cars waiting
in the middle I stood, debating, debating ~
the decision to make, what path to take
what would I lose, when so much was at stake?

I miss you - your methodical intelligence, your clear and definite character, your scratchy-blue-beard, your voice - a high fidelity love song.

I’m less obsessive about you in the rush of college with its narrowed perspectives and endless, immediate goals. It’s harder on vacation. There’s too much free time.

I’m tortured by my own needs.

“I can live without him,” I say, out of the blue, to no one - we’re lounging by a spa pool - “I’m going to reel myself in,” I add, listlessly “or I could just invite him - he’d show up for his own reasons..”

“You’re talking to yourself.” Lisa says.

“I’m seeking expert advice.” I answer back, shaking my head as if to throw off doubts.

I see two paths,
two lives for myself -
with him I am cast into
an ocean of untamed feeling,
lost to reason,
and floating off into an unseeable future.
With the other, I am held fast,
held close by his love
and burrowed deep into the earth;
an old tree that twists faithfully
growing strong and aging gently
across the planes of a lifetime.
How am I to love -
who am I to be, to choose,
to sink into.
I feel the pull of his tumultuous waves
and the roots that simultaneously
bind me to the earthly warmth
of another kind of man.

even as adults
given two magnets
we will strive
to force
each matching pole
together
with all
that can be mustered

we learnt
from a young age
that this would not
be possible
and yet
despite this
we would still
push
and
push
until the tips
finally touched
only
to burst apart
as soon as
our grip
was relaxed

it seems we understood
but
would not accept

there is no point
in trying to force
a connection;
it cannot
and will not
last

i bought a chair
that i thought was
exactly
what i was looking for
exactly
what i needed

the style
           the shape
                        the colour
ergonomic perfection

that something so simple
could align with
my needs
my wants;
i was surprised
i admit
it caught me off guard

but in time
the comfort i thought
i had found
was found wanting
dissipated

adjustments were made
and support toyed with
plumped up
or reduced
as seemed necessary
only to achieve
further discomfort
and anger

perhaps this desire
(or desperation)
to find
an idea of perfection
dulled my senses
forced
what did not truly fit

i have now spent
more time
seated
upon the floor
considering a replacement;
unable to commit
to discarding
this imperfect throne

i have no confidence
in finding anything better
and will likely continue
second guessing myself
as i second guess myself

we are the cat
that is both
alive
       and
            dead
but this box
is too small
there is not room
in this state of flux

one way
or
another
a truth
must be established;
either
open the box
to see for certain
or accept
what you believe
could be true

bury the box
forget the alternative
move beyond
the internal
       eternal
dissonance