I lie with the cool moist breeze caressing my skin.
The mossy grass as soft as a feather mattress at my back.
I hear the birds up high in the canopy of leaves.
The sounds of the glade, from the squirrels scurrying to the foxes prowling assail my ears.
Peace pervades this forest, life carries on unhindered, from the ants to the worms, time and existence carry on full circle.
I'm part of that circle of forest life
ever since you took mine with your knife.
Leaving me lying staring up at the sky.
I see you returning every now and then,
do you see and hear and feel what I do?
Or do you just see the rotting me,
lying as still as a mannequin?
My murderer know this, I have been a feast to the beasts,
and I live on in them.
Soon, you'll not come back again, but I will always be with you.
And so will the insects, flies and life that bred from me in this glen.

I was born with curly hair,
a bubbly laugh
and a blue eyed stare.

I was born with freckles on my nose,
always a need to know
and a reason to share.

I was born as part of a vanishing twin,
always preferring to be by myself
and always knowing I wasn't alone.

I reabsorbed my other twin, the
chromosomal abnormality, a blighted ****
if you will.

I put my duality down to this abnormality,
yet, always wanting to know,
my curiosity always on show.

I wonder why I came to be?
With the other me fading away.
I look for others with my freckles, blue eyes and grin.

I've never found her or him.

I was born a half of a whole,
maybe it's why sometimes I'm light, other times dark.
My twin left its mark, but, I think I'm the dark half.

I wish I could see the beauty in the world
one, that is clearly dreary, cynical and cold.
This old planet, home to millions of species
and billions of humans, hanging in orbit,
turning, turning, forever turning.
I want to see the romance of the stars,
without knowing they're dead cold and lifeless.
I want to hear music in the crashing waves,
without knowing the seas are rising, and species are dying.
I want to touch the earth and feel its life beating in sync with mine.
I want everyone to taste clean water, hot food and freedom.
But, I know that this show called life is full of spite,
there's no *** of gold at the end of the rainbow.
Just a huge arch of colours in the sky caused by water droplets.
There's no lollipop or band aid big enough for this broken earth's pain.
Lollipops and rainbows only equal tornadoes, and rain.

When I became yours and you became mine,
did we think we'd stand the test of time?
Did you think we'd last forever?
That we'd weather all storms together?
When we stood reciting our vows,
did you envisage us in our shrouds?

In front of all we took our turn,
repeating words like herds before.
Now, after ten years wed and fifteen together,
have we melded into each other's oppressor?
We love each other, that is true,
but don't you yearn for when we were unconcerned?

The brutal indifference of living is life.
The brutal truth is I will always be your wife.
We were made to stand the test of time.
What's mine is yours, what's yours is mine.
The brutality of this truth is that it extends
to the afterlife.

"We don't read and write poetry because it's cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. And medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for." - John Keating, Dead Poets Society (1989)

*As a child I loved you Mork, as an adult you taught me the fine line between laughter and despair.

She accepted
the crayon
and drew
a transparency
to step across
the mirror.

Living on
horizons
long forgotten,
she sprang from fire,
her love affair,
a tale of fairy.

The baobabs grew,
feeding on her,
shredded the glass.
A darker night
devoured the moon,
diluted her crayon.

Then came the day after.
She rose
and drew a crayon.
She accepted lucidity
feeding on transparency.
She took a step.