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