Me as I am
And you, in part
Become ‘we’ in this process.
A long conversation that’s intimate, yet paradoxically almost one-sided with respect to content.
But I’m not alone in it;
You are here, focussed and listening.
I wanted to write prose about this business, but its shape was a poem.
Between these lines is where the essence of the meaning lies
A space where we sense the sense of it
Our conversation is long indeed and many stories have been told
Some have been slow to unravel and are unravelling still
Some intertwine in complex patterns
And others are shaped into vivid dreams
We ride on them and ahead see fate laid out like a corpse
Unwinding the shroud we face Death
And all the while stare wide-eyed and white faced at our doom and our destiny
It’s here you whisper courage and strength into my ear.
This is the journey of a lifetime
Who leads and who follows I know not
Only the first hesitant step reveals the nature of the second, all else is obscured
Magical and mysterious, harsh yet peppered with laughter
The treasure found along the way is in the companionship of our shared experience
And in me finding the part of myself that I had thought lost
On reflection I needed to have a sense of where I’d been and where I am going
Yet I’m still here on the journey
And can’t see where it leads
As if this were ever possible!
But what I notice is that I need ask fewer questions
And perhaps that’s an answer of sorts.
My thoughts often draw pictures of love for you
So today, I listen to a shuffle of old songs
Hoping nostalgia will change the tune,
And distract me from the longing in my heart
I want to write you a love song
With the heart-rending warmth of Joan Armatrading,
The edgy complexity of Joni Mitchell
And the sweetness of James Taylor
A song of fantastical love in a mundane setting
Sweet in the loving
Bitter in its failure
I wonder why I stay when I could leave
Like the choice between bathing in the light or sinking into darkness
Who wouldn’t choose the light?
But I'm clinging to the darkness all the same.
You know this pain, and make me face it.
Holding me while I learn to accept things as they are
To trust and value fear and loss
And sing songs to celebrate my own experience
It might take a long time but maybe, after dark we’ll be laughing.
I watch a woman smile as leaves, like red fingered stars
Swirl round her in the stiff autumn wind.
She bends clutching handfuls of crisp copper wafers to her chest
And I'm reminded of childhood games;
They fall more thickly
And there's surprise and wonder in her eyes
At one with the breeze and the leaves
She spins in the dance, arms flung wide
Old memories dance before me; unbidden, chaotic,
With no promise of restoration or renewal
Their forever darkness still red slashed
As ghost sores weep
Love letters falling like leaves
Bleed from my breast in reams
Once written in heart blood
Golden gilded with the glow of possibilities
Once light, they now pool at my feet
I should catch them up, press them tightly to my chest
to staunch the flow of life's essence
But a sharp slashing cut which evicerates
and the sense darkness beyond paralyses
Here is the edge of grief
I revised the original poem, I hope for the better.
A fish splashed
Bright eyed, silver backed
Ripped through ripples leaping
To ****** a fly
Gills flare, gasping
Taught line stretches
And the barb bites deep
Now a waiting death
An edible prize
Once predator now prey
Fish is as fly
January is grim and grey in its usual way
And heart’s cockles need warming beside crackling and sputtering logs
Winter's ghosts are shriven
Undone by jolly festivities and bacchanalia
Singing ‘Auld Lang Syne’ and holding hands we raise the ullaloo to loved ones lost,
And so returns, the New Year.
aɪ love the slipping vaʊwels
That seɪ yʊər neɪme
In gliding təʊnes that form my lips to a kiss.
The səʊnd of it brings comforting warmth.
The world disappɪəring
In the seɪfe enfolding of yʊər arms,
Naʊ peɪn and tɪərs of sadness
Are companions to the memory of yʊər passing
Once peəred and jɔɪned
United as one,
This child’s nəʊtion was innocent of aweəreness
That love’s lexicon is full of such partings
Naʊ aləʊne aɪ strive to grasp an ember of a truth profaʊnd
That while a part of me will alweɪs
Call for you in whispers
And long for yʊər embreɪce
aɪ’ll preveɪl , surviving separation’s sting.
Glad to know this girl, with intellect and quirky wit,
I long to have her company and with her sit
Long discussing life’s complexities and simple truths.
Love fosters trust, then no thing's hidden or obtuse.