And I noticed the folds of the silken wings
had blended with the Oaken bark,
as one they formed natures pillow
both dead, yet comforting to my fractured mind.

Slumbering my memories carried me above the sheltering canopy,
they shook me in my dreaming yet still the lumber held me firm,
it’s rotten boughs forgave my fall
and Angels wings embraced me there.

In the forest of my darker days I lost my soul,
when all that could revive me was the pulsing heart of earth.
I was a knotted life lost in a womb,
yet from that depth of darkness to here I came.

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Take these eyes that I may not see
the harm that went before,
and take this tongue which silently
withholds the words of war,

yet screams within a fractured mind
where only I can hear,
the terrors that were left behind
so far away but ever near.

Take my hands and wash them clean
of flesh tainted by blood,
that in the night they might un-claw
and grip some peace instead of war,

and please take my heart and fill it full
with all the things I lost,
that somehow might replace in me
all I spent to pay this cost.

From brisance condensed in hatred
ignition came,
like the dormant dust of ages,
from careless words and truth-less history,
it came.

Some unknown, immolated, evaporated, disappeared.
Others reconstituted, pulling limbs and minds together.
Whilst the lost fragmented to darker corners,
into the splintered flash of a moment, screaming for eternity.

Thunder roars silent in their dead ears.

The grey carpet laid randomly where it fell,
its fabric now woven into mine.

I wait for the second wave
to wash me clear,
away from the expanding storm,
to an untouched atoll.

In beautiful decrepitude
the structure stands bereft and crude

through windows cobwebbed and curtain’s torn
it gazes down where dust was lawn

the slated roof now patched with fern
its chimney stacks that once did burn

are housing rats that left the ship
but never quite abandoned it

and often when the Sun breaks through
it warms the rooms where love was true

and in that light see grandeur rise
where once the ruin beguiled eyes

How proud the branches stood in spring
pink and bare with youth,
Un-leafed till then yet billowing
with natures un-spoke truth

that time will pass and weigh them down
with summer ripened jewels,
while all of earth might spin around
though never shed its fools.

Mary had a little lamb
it was a Caesarean delivery,
its conception was even stranger
in a barn under stars up against a manger.

On pudding lane with a pocket full of Posies
little Jack Horner
was last seen on a corner,
he slipped into whispers
and pulled out a plum,
Rumplestiltskin did cartwheels
as he strangled Tom Thumb.

Little Red Riding
when lulled by the wolf
lowered her hood and twinkled her eye,
her ginger bread biscuit crumbled to dust
and all the Kings men could ne’er reason why.

So fairy tale this and fairy tale that
trick all the rabbits you pull from your hat
for all of the things that remain unexplained
make up a story
and give it a name.

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Dogs on cobbled hobs
warmed by early Sun,
their owners folded into news
of things in flux and things to come.

In sleepy hope the town awakes
its people’s heart beats anew,
though leaving slow my own does break
to be just passing through.