Grow Big

Lying motionless for weeks

Eyes tracing fleur de lis

The peeling paper of grief

Lit by dappled window

 

We hauled ourselves o’er river

Up valley, down street

A fortress of relief

Where the sun streams in

 

Letterbox dropped all over

Exhaustive help depletes

Children playing down the creek

Treated from top to feet

 

The wardrobe grew expansive

The widening face to greet

In the mirror of my memory

My morning stranger meet

 

A thickening of walls and doors

A latch that won’t fool many

The welcome mat rolled up and out

For neighbours warm and friendly

 

The distance and the silence grew

A universe between them

Majestic prose still flows in space

Though gracious few receive it

 

The stranger in the mirror

Grows accustomed to the stare

Our eyes meet and smile

A sweet surrendered air

 

Hiding in plain sight

My former figure forgets

Politely nod and carry along

The new friend in our midst

 

New and aged silver and brave

Though some might say contrary

The glimmer in her eye reveals

The joy in giving Glory


Featured Image: Photo by Hello I’m Nik on Unsplash

Horizons open out behind and before my eyes

Where once closed lids were anointed by the sky

A feast of coloured feathered wings adorn the quiet street

Where once a common sparrow was admired

Sprigs of white blossoms litter the greenway edges

Where once the swarm of pests had devoured

A window bush explodes in yellow flowers and vivid green

Where once the worm had eaten all bud and leaf

 

The Springing Sun adorns my bedroom mirror and wall

Where once the light was blinding and the shades my coverall

Pale green new leaves float dreamily on the warm soft breeze

Where once apologies for the diseased tree next door

A drone of bees parade along the front blooming tower

Where once a drone of ghostly voices furled my brow

Little boy lambs bleat delight in hands and friends

Where once they fended alone as eagle descends

 

The tower clock is bypassed for the bustling doctor’s street

Where once the sanctity of pillowed pews was sweet

Hopeful conversations in the sun and houses meet

Where once mere imaginings of popular masses to greet

How ready as we’d ever been to step into Unknown

Where once control had reigned and error was shown

Faces, I daily pray and long to see an Image old

Where once their living wisdom was untold

20170625_151555
Street Art, Konstance, Germany. By ‘Nilko and Rusl’

Gracious Spring Tide

Nothing but the Blood

I gave away my feathers to a wounded bird, mid-flight

She fondled in her fingers and gazed at colours bright.

Both of us now cold, I wandered down the pale pink hall

Warmed by hands and hearts – reciting heaven, gold, gems and all.

With bravery I wore a cross-shaped medal I didn’t earn

A signed and sealed commission of men has joined the funeral burn.

Though many think the flow of blood is death, despair and strife

I know for sure it’s freedom from guilt and our eternal life.

The darkness that I wear will not do for wedding ball

Patiently, I changed the feathers for a pure white shawl.

 

 

Image credit

Here Freedom lies

I’d lost the people I loved. In the midst of the daily decisions and jaw-clenching nightly invocation, all the notable ones were scarce and silent.  Anger, sadness, and pain rolled around my vital organs and stuttered my speech meditating on thoughts of misdeeds and words misspoken that persisted in my mind. Here lies life, the new day begets another. This solemn song is sung in chorus in palliative waiting rooms, tall stories forgotten and oft-loved ones replaced by diagnostic faces – with wry, stale smiles. A hand lies upon them, hemmed in front and behind, an eye for an ego, release in freedom lie.

Past-love archive

“I have learned that if you must leave a place that you have lived in and loved and where all your yesteryears are buried deep, leave it any way except a slow way, leave it the fastest way you can. Never turn back and never believe that an hour you remember is a better hour because it is dead. Passed years seem safe ones, vanquished ones, while the future lives in a cloud, formidable from a distance.”
Beryl Markham, West with the Night

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“Ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation.”
Kahlil Gibran

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“We’re going all the way ’til the wheels fall off and burn.”
Bob Dylan

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“You made me happy and you made me laugh, and if I could do it all over again, I would not hesitate. Look at our life, at the trips we took, the adventures we had. As your father used to say, we shared the longest ride together, this thing called life, and mine has been filled with joy because of you.”
Nicholas Sparks, The Longest Ride

Soundings

 

Barstools, beers and lonely cheers

Sideways glances, sound and fears

Top of the loft, corner of the street

Just dropping off, by chance again we meet

 

Perched high above on a leather bus seat

Looking down on you as sun and horizon meet

Living through pictures on your wall

Passing on paper cranes, love and all

 

Resonating strings and sings around

Searching for words unspoken sound

Fathom feeling depths unknown

Silence falls like shell shock tone

 

Rivers of lyrical, satirical rhymes

Flood down the mount of eternal time

A single vase of living water, blooms

Tapped from the source in our living rooms