“What I Carry”

Some days the loss is heavy,
like stones in my chest.
Other days it’s light,
like sunlight through leaves.
Both are true. Both stay with me.
And somehow, so do I.

ONE (I) - 28/7/24.

We are walkers of a tightrope.
As a result of passing message, we begin in the country park.
Branches crunch, unaware. We approach the edge of the lake, and look over.
A fluffy duckling, perfect and yellow and dreadfully helpless; it calls out to us from its spillway siphon.
A towering barrier divides this victim of nature from the water in which it belongs to.
The passage of time created this tragedy.
Legs much too short to jump high enough for Salvation, legs much too feeble to push forwards against a current that challenges with a harsh shove backwards.
You and I stare,
Knowing that this decision of life is not ours to make.

TWO (II) - 28/7/25

You and I are both the duckling now.
We stand atop a concrete Purgatory — there is only slight faith of getting back up, but the darkness that heads downwards seems a more logical route.
Two onlookers pass by, and they acknowledge our flaws.
The weakened nature of our bodies, and our lack of determination. Four eyes that only glance downwards, accepting.
They peer, knowing that reaching a hand out to grasp
Our desperately hungry souls
Would result in their own deaths.

Everyone is a duckling, ensnared within a spillway siphon.

We never swim in the ocean;
only laments: the shallow lake
that is denied to us.

And, when we are allowed
to drink from the fountain of desires,
we hesitate — we do not dive;
nor do we plunge the soul —
let alone swim our own fate.
We drown in imagination,
with each stroke not taken.

Without courage,
we do not get wet:
we live at the margin,
sipping drops of that water.
Thirsty for consciousness,
we empty ourselves of the wisdom
He has destined for us.

Do not poo-poo the ****, my friend,
it is nature’s truth from end to end.
A daily gift, a humble sign,
that all is working, all is fine.

Doctors may boast of pills and care,
but nothing speaks like what is down there.
A **** a day will keep them away,
a throne-room triumph, hip-hip hooray!

So lift your head, sit proud and true,
this sacred duty calls on you.
For in the flush, life’s proof does swoop:
behold the wisdom found in ****.