I am just
unfolding myself
and my pyjamas
when the door opens
smallest boy
appears
dummy in mouth
biggest blue eyes
mumble mumble splutter
"take your dummy out"
determination flashes
louder more strident
mumble mumble splutter
"I can't understand you"
determination becomes
frustration
of the obstinate kind
of the 4 year old kind
time for the guessing game
do you need
a cuddle
a story
a drink of water
ummm
have you
wet yourself
wet the bed
errr
do you feel
too hot
too cold
a bit sick
a lot sick
hmmm
OK
here's what we'll do
I take his hand
and we head back
to his room
where I tuck him in
all the while
keeping up
the patter
you know
the patter
nonsensical chatter
encompassing whatever
pops into your head
at the time
where do we learn this
this soothing
how do we know instinctively
that the only thing
really needed here
is a flow of words
a few more minutes
of company
as I sit watching
him fall from here
all the way down
into dream land.
Why
Why is such a powerful question
to be used with caution
many sided as it is
at once a challenge
a request for clarification
but you see the thing is
that in any complete response
a peeling back is involved
an exposure of the layers
delving into the murky depths
of what motivates an act
or creates an interaction
In much the same way
I am cautious in answering
do you actually mean why
are you ready to engage
in a dialogue on the matter
deal with what may very well
turn out to be raw realities
or will platitudes suffice
in which case
the question is not why at all
and the simplest answer is
well ... it just is.
Why do we do what we do
side stepping the issue
we might ask instead
what made me do it
we may thus seek absolution
teetering on the edge
of a shocking self revelation
for isn’t the truth of it
that mostly we do what we do
for our own ends
seeking to meet our own needs
and that is why.
If life were that simple
questioning it would now falter
but isn't it also true
that in the way we seek
we sometimes act
in ways we would not normally
causing internal conflicts
as we try to justify the unjustifiable
shifting the burden of responsibility
from our own shoulders
why do we do this?
When we abdicate responsibility
for our actions
we become powerless
consigned to the fates
or to the will of the gods
in this way we misuse faith
cushioning ourselves from the reality
that we act this way
because we want to
at least at the time we do
but why?
to be used with caution
many sided as it is
at once a challenge
a request for clarification
but you see the thing is
that in any complete response
a peeling back is involved
an exposure of the layers
delving into the murky depths
of what motivates an act
or creates an interaction
In much the same way
I am cautious in answering
do you actually mean why
are you ready to engage
in a dialogue on the matter
deal with what may very well
turn out to be raw realities
or will platitudes suffice
in which case
the question is not why at all
and the simplest answer is
well ... it just is.
Why do we do what we do
side stepping the issue
we might ask instead
what made me do it
we may thus seek absolution
teetering on the edge
of a shocking self revelation
for isn’t the truth of it
that mostly we do what we do
for our own ends
seeking to meet our own needs
and that is why.
If life were that simple
questioning it would now falter
but isn't it also true
that in the way we seek
we sometimes act
in ways we would not normally
causing internal conflicts
as we try to justify the unjustifiable
shifting the burden of responsibility
from our own shoulders
why do we do this?
When we abdicate responsibility
for our actions
we become powerless
consigned to the fates
or to the will of the gods
in this way we misuse faith
cushioning ourselves from the reality
that we act this way
because we want to
at least at the time we do
but why?
Silence
Can silence
ever be as eloquent
as words spoken
or is it that the impact
of a look
can never match
what is said
In silence
we can be eloquent
without words
we can speak
a simple touch
a drawing near
can say more
But silence
can be a barrier
a separation
so I'll throw a line
aim it high
a string of words
from my side
What to say
that hasn't been
only this
I've been thinking
that letting you go
might make it easier
for you to stay
ever be as eloquent
as words spoken
or is it that the impact
of a look
can never match
what is said
In silence
we can be eloquent
without words
we can speak
a simple touch
a drawing near
can say more
But silence
can be a barrier
a separation
so I'll throw a line
aim it high
a string of words
from my side
What to say
that hasn't been
only this
I've been thinking
that letting you go
might make it easier
for you to stay
Isn't This?
I don't want to start fighting again
I am so tired of trying to find
new ways to say the same old things
can't we go walking instead
hold hands and talk of the breeze
or of the sound of the river flow
I just want to walk with you my love
and speak of gentler things
reminding us of times gone by
when there was nothing better
than we two on the same path
wandering homeward together
You think this is avoidance tactics
but when I question this use
of such war-like words you shrug
as if to say well isn't this
I know better than to disagree
but my heart cries into the silence
I don't do much in the way of shouting
having never been able to see the benefit
of using volume over reason
is this why you can't see
the intensity of the emotions I feel
or does your focus rest solely on your own rage
I wonder again how it comes to this
how there is even a question of sides
and rights, since when did we have rights
in our dealings with one another
whatever happened to the art of compromise
that doesn't only require that I back down
Still I don't believe that even these difficulties
cannot be untangled, undone rung by rung
if only we can both ascend to the plateau
an agreed level at just the right height
between your needs and mine
from where we can both see the horizon.
I am so tired of trying to find
new ways to say the same old things
can't we go walking instead
hold hands and talk of the breeze
or of the sound of the river flow
I just want to walk with you my love
and speak of gentler things
reminding us of times gone by
when there was nothing better
than we two on the same path
wandering homeward together
You think this is avoidance tactics
but when I question this use
of such war-like words you shrug
as if to say well isn't this
I know better than to disagree
but my heart cries into the silence
I don't do much in the way of shouting
having never been able to see the benefit
of using volume over reason
is this why you can't see
the intensity of the emotions I feel
or does your focus rest solely on your own rage
I wonder again how it comes to this
how there is even a question of sides
and rights, since when did we have rights
in our dealings with one another
whatever happened to the art of compromise
that doesn't only require that I back down
Still I don't believe that even these difficulties
cannot be untangled, undone rung by rung
if only we can both ascend to the plateau
an agreed level at just the right height
between your needs and mine
from where we can both see the horizon.
Note to a long time friend
I think you've mentioned that I’m soft
both in the heart and in the head
at least so you've said
But I just wanted to let you know
that I have not given up on us
even if it turns out that you have
Some say things they don’t mean
trying to soften the blow
or avoid it altogether with silence
So if I have misunderstood somehow
mis-read the signals or lack thereof
I thought I’d better just say
That this softness lasts a lifetime
and so you’re always welcome
to re-establish contact when you’re ready
Assured that our friendship endures
until or if such time comes
that you tell me otherwise
It feels like it’s been too long now
since we sat at your kitchen table
chatting into the small hours
Since none of my recent attempts
to tempt you into talking have worked
I’ll leave you instead with this thought
I can’t change the person I am or was
or any of the things I have done
despite having so many deep regrets
But something I can say in truth
is that no matter what happens
I will never regret knowing you
So now I’ll leave you finally in peace
for I’m not sure I can bear trying again
to scale the walls of your silence
both in the heart and in the head
at least so you've said
But I just wanted to let you know
that I have not given up on us
even if it turns out that you have
Some say things they don’t mean
trying to soften the blow
or avoid it altogether with silence
So if I have misunderstood somehow
mis-read the signals or lack thereof
I thought I’d better just say
That this softness lasts a lifetime
and so you’re always welcome
to re-establish contact when you’re ready
Assured that our friendship endures
until or if such time comes
that you tell me otherwise
It feels like it’s been too long now
since we sat at your kitchen table
chatting into the small hours
Since none of my recent attempts
to tempt you into talking have worked
I’ll leave you instead with this thought
I can’t change the person I am or was
or any of the things I have done
despite having so many deep regrets
But something I can say in truth
is that no matter what happens
I will never regret knowing you
So now I’ll leave you finally in peace
for I’m not sure I can bear trying again
to scale the walls of your silence
Some Starting Point
I hate that familiarity breeds contempt
how is it that I can trace my hand
across any part of your terrain
and know it as if it were my own
whilst your thoughts remain hidden
behind this dull but polite courtesy
when did we start behaving this way
How can I risk so much on you
when you give so little in return
each small step seen from the outside
can feel like a giant leap from within
and yet … ah well, here we are again
with me thinking this way and you that
am I still so blind to your compromise
Can divergence ever be persuaded
to change course and head for home
have you forgotten the promises we made
that no matter what life brings our way
you and I would be our own safe haven
us against the world, do you remember
such safety found in each others arms
As I talk of such matters I meet your eyes
I want you to see my serious intent
knowing my simplicity bothers you
makes you think I don’t see the whole
the complexity of the issues at play
but in this you mistake me my love
for I see it all … all too well
I am not searching for a quick fix
but a lasting solution or resolution
I want to find some starting point
a place where I can stand with you
where we can once again become one
even if it is only in this endeavour
to find some way forward together
how is it that I can trace my hand
across any part of your terrain
and know it as if it were my own
whilst your thoughts remain hidden
behind this dull but polite courtesy
when did we start behaving this way
How can I risk so much on you
when you give so little in return
each small step seen from the outside
can feel like a giant leap from within
and yet … ah well, here we are again
with me thinking this way and you that
am I still so blind to your compromise
Can divergence ever be persuaded
to change course and head for home
have you forgotten the promises we made
that no matter what life brings our way
you and I would be our own safe haven
us against the world, do you remember
such safety found in each others arms
As I talk of such matters I meet your eyes
I want you to see my serious intent
knowing my simplicity bothers you
makes you think I don’t see the whole
the complexity of the issues at play
but in this you mistake me my love
for I see it all … all too well
I am not searching for a quick fix
but a lasting solution or resolution
I want to find some starting point
a place where I can stand with you
where we can once again become one
even if it is only in this endeavour
to find some way forward together
Time passes
Nearly six months have passed
since yesterday
when I walked into your room
for the very last time
carrying yet more flowers
some of our favourite music
and a heavy photo album
loaded down in every way
for our stroll along memory lane
wondering as I did
how to build an effective dam
against the pressing torrent
of tears threatening
to engulf me at any moment
Even now I remember the dread
other mixed emotions
how to live up to this honour
of being here to see you through
from this side
to whatever lies beyond
not knowing though
that this would be that hallowed day
hoping as ever to push back time
stretch the moments
and yet with your next breath
wanting to run as far away
as it was possible to get
afraid as ever
Rooted instead to the spot
holding tight somewhere inside
even as I gently held your hand
too frail, not really yours at all
listening to the rasp of your breaths
spaced impossibly far apart
wondering how to tell
when exactly it would be that you left
and thinking where are the final words
the chance to say ...
well so many things
too many for such a dry mouth
as my hammering heart raced
even whilst yours slowed to a still
Slowly I became aware of that stillness
from which there would be
no re-awakening
no more feeble jokes
as we stumbled through another rosary
why is it that when your heart is full
your mouth ceases in it's ability
to form even simple words
perhaps because they are as dust
whirling like so many motes
in the light that fell upon your face
I never sat so still
as I did in those moments
hoping for one more flicker of you
See, I remember just as if these months
were really only seconds
I can still feel the crushing weight
somewhere below my stomach
and how wobbly my legs were
as I went to find someone to come
to make sure of what I already knew
and not wanting to walk back
into this room ever again
even as I desperately wanted to
to see you, no ... to see you
not this remnant left over
I recall thinking you looked better
now that it was all over
What I don't remember is leaving
or any of the drive home
how strange it was to feel so numb
and yet still able to move
I can still hear the whooshing sound
and the indescribable cry
when your mum heard my voice
knowing that I was
keeping my last promise to you
that even in those moments
we were letting go
and starting the whole process
of somehow learning to live
without you
However it feels in this moment now
it is not the same as then
each day has unfolded in it's time
bringing with it a lessening
in such imperceptible increments
that it's almost impossible to tell
except in small ways
I never knew how much I'd love
your amazing mother
or how much we'd laugh and cry
as we sorted through your stuff
finding small treasures
to parcel out to loved ones
how we would ourselves become friends
How strange it is now when we chat
that I see your smile on her face
that funny way you'd flutter your hands
as if to wave away my idiocy
and just when proved right
you'd twist it so it wasn't so
so this is where that sharpness comes from
I see the history of you in her every line
and in the gentleness of her chiding
that I should eat better, get more sleep
I know how she drove you up the wall
with her unceasing care
bequeathed now to us left to bear
even as time passes.
since yesterday
when I walked into your room
for the very last time
carrying yet more flowers
some of our favourite music
and a heavy photo album
loaded down in every way
for our stroll along memory lane
wondering as I did
how to build an effective dam
against the pressing torrent
of tears threatening
to engulf me at any moment
Even now I remember the dread
other mixed emotions
how to live up to this honour
of being here to see you through
from this side
to whatever lies beyond
not knowing though
that this would be that hallowed day
hoping as ever to push back time
stretch the moments
and yet with your next breath
wanting to run as far away
as it was possible to get
afraid as ever
Rooted instead to the spot
holding tight somewhere inside
even as I gently held your hand
too frail, not really yours at all
listening to the rasp of your breaths
spaced impossibly far apart
wondering how to tell
when exactly it would be that you left
and thinking where are the final words
the chance to say ...
well so many things
too many for such a dry mouth
as my hammering heart raced
even whilst yours slowed to a still
Slowly I became aware of that stillness
from which there would be
no re-awakening
no more feeble jokes
as we stumbled through another rosary
why is it that when your heart is full
your mouth ceases in it's ability
to form even simple words
perhaps because they are as dust
whirling like so many motes
in the light that fell upon your face
I never sat so still
as I did in those moments
hoping for one more flicker of you
See, I remember just as if these months
were really only seconds
I can still feel the crushing weight
somewhere below my stomach
and how wobbly my legs were
as I went to find someone to come
to make sure of what I already knew
and not wanting to walk back
into this room ever again
even as I desperately wanted to
to see you, no ... to see you
not this remnant left over
I recall thinking you looked better
now that it was all over
What I don't remember is leaving
or any of the drive home
how strange it was to feel so numb
and yet still able to move
I can still hear the whooshing sound
and the indescribable cry
when your mum heard my voice
knowing that I was
keeping my last promise to you
that even in those moments
we were letting go
and starting the whole process
of somehow learning to live
without you
However it feels in this moment now
it is not the same as then
each day has unfolded in it's time
bringing with it a lessening
in such imperceptible increments
that it's almost impossible to tell
except in small ways
I never knew how much I'd love
your amazing mother
or how much we'd laugh and cry
as we sorted through your stuff
finding small treasures
to parcel out to loved ones
how we would ourselves become friends
How strange it is now when we chat
that I see your smile on her face
that funny way you'd flutter your hands
as if to wave away my idiocy
and just when proved right
you'd twist it so it wasn't so
so this is where that sharpness comes from
I see the history of you in her every line
and in the gentleness of her chiding
that I should eat better, get more sleep
I know how she drove you up the wall
with her unceasing care
bequeathed now to us left to bear
even as time passes.
Here
The irony is
that I have longed for this
for you to finally crack
and talk to me
how has the law
of unintended consequences
come into play here
As I listen to you say
that you're not sure
if you want me any more
that you've felt
like this
for quite a while now
which leaves me
here
that I have longed for this
for you to finally crack
and talk to me
how has the law
of unintended consequences
come into play here
As I listen to you say
that you're not sure
if you want me any more
that you've felt
like this
for quite a while now
which leaves me
here
My heart does not lie
I don't know what to say
how to tell you that this
has not been some huge lie
our life so far together
and yet I must say something
So I will tell you only this
I love you, I always have
from that first moment
when your eyes softened
looking straight into mine
I wish so many things
that my past was different
no, not to spare me but you
for you suffer consequences
unintended and undeserved
You know I never thought
I would ever be with anyone
can you imagine the journey
taking me from there to here
to being here with you my love
If I regret anything at all
it's that I've not been enough
in pretty much every sense
insufficient in my deeds
and yet never in my heart
how to tell you that this
has not been some huge lie
our life so far together
and yet I must say something
So I will tell you only this
I love you, I always have
from that first moment
when your eyes softened
looking straight into mine
I wish so many things
that my past was different
no, not to spare me but you
for you suffer consequences
unintended and undeserved
You know I never thought
I would ever be with anyone
can you imagine the journey
taking me from there to here
to being here with you my love
If I regret anything at all
it's that I've not been enough
in pretty much every sense
insufficient in my deeds
and yet never in my heart
Have you?
Have you ever
given yourself
into the arms of
another
in complete
surrender?
Have you?
How did it
feel?
given yourself
into the arms of
another
in complete
surrender?
Have you?
How did it
feel?
A little bit sad
Such a strange thing this ... your superior smile
telling me that I'm naive beyond your credulity
but what if I tell you that it's by my own choice
that I have chosen to trust rather than the opposite
You tell me that this hurt is then my own fault
for being unable to read the underlying signs
that lie between the lines of what’s said and unsaid
askance at my incomprehension of the obvious
It seems beyond belief that I do not understand this
unless you understand that I do not see as you do
so signs need to be high up and fluorescent bright
not asides that apparently any idiot would pick up on
Purposeful naivety, is there a specific word for it
probably not, so maybe I should create one of my own
for I own to this approach with my whole heart
and I would rather be hurt than be the cause of it
If you need to be smart to understand all this stuff
then leave me in my ignorance so I can find friends
that do not scorn and scoff at my attempts to integrate
and since when was laughter such a potent weapon
I see your wry grin as you state that I am just childish
whereas I'd say I am child-like which is not the same
for I've had the benefit of many long years of living
in which to learn and understand what's important
And although your good opinion of me would be nice
I'd rather stand tall under the gaze of my own estimation
than whither inside trying to pay the price to meet yours
so I'll aim to remain child-like in whom I choose to trust
Even though the price might be more times like these
when ridicule will aim it's sharp arrows at this soft target
I know the price paid for a hard outer shell is even higher
which makes it funny in a way, and just a little bit sad too.
telling me that I'm naive beyond your credulity
but what if I tell you that it's by my own choice
that I have chosen to trust rather than the opposite
You tell me that this hurt is then my own fault
for being unable to read the underlying signs
that lie between the lines of what’s said and unsaid
askance at my incomprehension of the obvious
It seems beyond belief that I do not understand this
unless you understand that I do not see as you do
so signs need to be high up and fluorescent bright
not asides that apparently any idiot would pick up on
Purposeful naivety, is there a specific word for it
probably not, so maybe I should create one of my own
for I own to this approach with my whole heart
and I would rather be hurt than be the cause of it
If you need to be smart to understand all this stuff
then leave me in my ignorance so I can find friends
that do not scorn and scoff at my attempts to integrate
and since when was laughter such a potent weapon
I see your wry grin as you state that I am just childish
whereas I'd say I am child-like which is not the same
for I've had the benefit of many long years of living
in which to learn and understand what's important
And although your good opinion of me would be nice
I'd rather stand tall under the gaze of my own estimation
than whither inside trying to pay the price to meet yours
so I'll aim to remain child-like in whom I choose to trust
Even though the price might be more times like these
when ridicule will aim it's sharp arrows at this soft target
I know the price paid for a hard outer shell is even higher
which makes it funny in a way, and just a little bit sad too.
Seven Years of Wisdom
I do love our celebration days
the gathering of everyone together
the colour and ceremony of it all
cake, balloons, games, family & friends
and today watching you glow
the centre of all of our attention
present opening gone in a flash
wrapping paper flying ... oo's and ah's
so often now these days
I am conscious of your wisdom
more so than you are of course
since you've so much to think about
and not that much of it wise at all
such is the nature of this age
what more could I expect
and I don't, since I remember well
the ebb and flow of thoughts and dreams
beliefs subsequently undone by events
that don't concur with your conjecture
but whilst not quite matching up
don't cause huge consternation either
such is the wisdom of seven years.
Years in which you've learnt much
and I much too alongside you
discovering through your eyes
a new kind of wonder at it all
somehow despite your young age
I sometimes think that you teach
lessons I could learn nowhere else
and what of the pillars of wisdom
gathered over these seven years.
First and foremost acceptance of love
both in the giving and in the receiving
creating certainty and a sense of safety
I love the assumption that all is well
as long as one of us is alongside
so on to the second which is trust
freely given and even in the breach
not quite so freely but still, forgiven
fallibility not a cause for derision
and on to the third, simple enjoyment
in running down a hill too fast
at spinning around until giddy
in sitting on a swinging gate chatting
in finally getting a kite off the ground
taking the training wheels off your bike
jumping from the top diving board
well ... too many other things to list
on to the fourth which is gratitude
demonstrated in a sudden hug
a handmade card or a painted picture
a grasp of the hand and a swing about
a twinkling of eyes across the room
fifth is in the seizing of the moment.
There is rarely a better time than now
in which to start having more fun
chores nearly always get done in the end
especially the ones turned into a game
there is a time for work, but also for play.
Sixth is trying even when you're not sure
how do we know without giving it a go
and how many times have I watched you
overcome some overwhelming trepidation
only to turn with that gigantic smile
that comes from such accomplishments
and finally we come on to the seventh
which is back to where we started.
I just love the way that you wonder
and are so often filled with wonder
is this not the very foundation of wisdom?
Altogether this makes you a very wise boy.
Happy Birthday Oliver. I love you. Always.
the gathering of everyone together
the colour and ceremony of it all
cake, balloons, games, family & friends
and today watching you glow
the centre of all of our attention
present opening gone in a flash
wrapping paper flying ... oo's and ah's
so often now these days
I am conscious of your wisdom
more so than you are of course
since you've so much to think about
and not that much of it wise at all
such is the nature of this age
what more could I expect
and I don't, since I remember well
the ebb and flow of thoughts and dreams
beliefs subsequently undone by events
that don't concur with your conjecture
but whilst not quite matching up
don't cause huge consternation either
such is the wisdom of seven years.
Years in which you've learnt much
and I much too alongside you
discovering through your eyes
a new kind of wonder at it all
somehow despite your young age
I sometimes think that you teach
lessons I could learn nowhere else
and what of the pillars of wisdom
gathered over these seven years.
First and foremost acceptance of love
both in the giving and in the receiving
creating certainty and a sense of safety
I love the assumption that all is well
as long as one of us is alongside
so on to the second which is trust
freely given and even in the breach
not quite so freely but still, forgiven
fallibility not a cause for derision
and on to the third, simple enjoyment
in running down a hill too fast
at spinning around until giddy
in sitting on a swinging gate chatting
in finally getting a kite off the ground
taking the training wheels off your bike
jumping from the top diving board
well ... too many other things to list
on to the fourth which is gratitude
demonstrated in a sudden hug
a handmade card or a painted picture
a grasp of the hand and a swing about
a twinkling of eyes across the room
fifth is in the seizing of the moment.
There is rarely a better time than now
in which to start having more fun
chores nearly always get done in the end
especially the ones turned into a game
there is a time for work, but also for play.
Sixth is trying even when you're not sure
how do we know without giving it a go
and how many times have I watched you
overcome some overwhelming trepidation
only to turn with that gigantic smile
that comes from such accomplishments
and finally we come on to the seventh
which is back to where we started.
I just love the way that you wonder
and are so often filled with wonder
is this not the very foundation of wisdom?
Altogether this makes you a very wise boy.
Happy Birthday Oliver. I love you. Always.
Me (in 55 words)
Why?
oh god ... well
if I only knew
the reason for that
then I could change it
alter myself
entirely
so instead of being
an individual
as I am
even so
I could be
divergent
or maybe not
what matters here
is the difference
but it's not to be
not yet
now
I'm just
me
oh god ... well
if I only knew
the reason for that
then I could change it
alter myself
entirely
so instead of being
an individual
as I am
even so
I could be
divergent
or maybe not
what matters here
is the difference
but it's not to be
not yet
now
I'm just
me
Faith
Is complexity compromised
by our desire to break it down
to simplify into basic concepts
in order to gain an understanding
or does it steadfastly maintain
it’s inherent nature despite us
Recently I have been thinking
about why I feel the need
to break complexity down
knowing as I do that the whole
is made up of so much more
than the sum of it’s parts
Even so the whole is too vast
and trying to encompass it
has made my brain sorely ache
both in an effort to understand
and in regret at my poor efforts
leaving me here in my ignorance
Perhaps it is better to accept
than to strive for understanding
but can we change our own nature
if questioning is deeply ingrained
is it necessary to subjugate it
fleeing instead to a form of faith
Is faith based on a fleeing from
as valid as that of a fleeing towards
does The Maker look kindly on us
in such circumstances as these
being able to see the whole as it is
in all of it’s glorious complexity
Does anything change it’s nature
under the influence of mere observation
surely only our perceptions change
as we move from one standpoint
hoping that the next will in turn yield
epiphany, revelation, perhaps even faith.
by our desire to break it down
to simplify into basic concepts
in order to gain an understanding
or does it steadfastly maintain
it’s inherent nature despite us
Recently I have been thinking
about why I feel the need
to break complexity down
knowing as I do that the whole
is made up of so much more
than the sum of it’s parts
Even so the whole is too vast
and trying to encompass it
has made my brain sorely ache
both in an effort to understand
and in regret at my poor efforts
leaving me here in my ignorance
Perhaps it is better to accept
than to strive for understanding
but can we change our own nature
if questioning is deeply ingrained
is it necessary to subjugate it
fleeing instead to a form of faith
Is faith based on a fleeing from
as valid as that of a fleeing towards
does The Maker look kindly on us
in such circumstances as these
being able to see the whole as it is
in all of it’s glorious complexity
Does anything change it’s nature
under the influence of mere observation
surely only our perceptions change
as we move from one standpoint
hoping that the next will in turn yield
epiphany, revelation, perhaps even faith.
Broken
Can I just explain?
It's such a strange thing. Often my most optimistic posts are written on the cusp of a sudden descent into the ever present darkness that pervades my life. Hence I posted about my late night bath time ... closely followed by the poem below. Which I then withdrew this morning. Part of my ongoing battle perhaps.
The bath time events described occurred a few weeks ago when I was staying over at my beloved sisters' place. I am so lucky to have an opportunity to be an auntie, something that brings me more joy than I can hope to describe. The chance to give love without the blessing/burden of parental responsibility. Priceless.
And yet ... and yet. There are times when I feel so totally desolate. Times when I feel that all that I am was defined long ago. When unspeakable things were done ... things I saw, things I experienced, things I did.
Don't tell me that just because I was a little girl it doesn't count. It counts. I broke trust with my brother. It counts. It does.
And so ...
Broken
I want you to know
the nature
of my brokenness
When I was small
I met a man
a monster man
He did things
unspeakable things
which I watched
And then was watched
by my brother
we locked eyes
I willed him through
it was not enough
it never is
And somehow now
I can't unlock
from these things
It's such a strange thing. Often my most optimistic posts are written on the cusp of a sudden descent into the ever present darkness that pervades my life. Hence I posted about my late night bath time ... closely followed by the poem below. Which I then withdrew this morning. Part of my ongoing battle perhaps.
The bath time events described occurred a few weeks ago when I was staying over at my beloved sisters' place. I am so lucky to have an opportunity to be an auntie, something that brings me more joy than I can hope to describe. The chance to give love without the blessing/burden of parental responsibility. Priceless.
And yet ... and yet. There are times when I feel so totally desolate. Times when I feel that all that I am was defined long ago. When unspeakable things were done ... things I saw, things I experienced, things I did.
Don't tell me that just because I was a little girl it doesn't count. It counts. I broke trust with my brother. It counts. It does.
And so ...
Broken
I want you to know
the nature
of my brokenness
When I was small
I met a man
a monster man
He did things
unspeakable things
which I watched
And then was watched
by my brother
we locked eyes
I willed him through
it was not enough
it never is
And somehow now
I can't unlock
from these things
Night games
"What in heavens name is going on here?"
it's the exact tone from my childhood
whipping my head around knowing I won't see
my mother resplendent there in her ire
those ancient towering rages with hissing lips
and hands itching to do their own damage
No when I turn my head I just see her
my sister, and so parody comes to play
I look over at William but he's no help
he knows I'll take the fall for whatever it is
he always has the perfect alibi that one
he just shrugs waiting to see what'll unfold
We're sitting in the bathtub at 2 in the morning
I 'm torpedoing our frogmen with bath balls
whilst William is making not-so mini tsunamis
resulting in some splash-out unnoticed by me
well at least until a proper grown up arrives
causing the mantle of responsibility to re-settle
Funny really, it all started innocently enough
as pretty much all of these things do I find
with a squeaky creak of the door in the dark hours
"Jos I've been sick and it's all everywhere"
an altogether accurate assessment as it turns out
he looks like he's been dipped in a vat of vomit
Well the only solution presenting itself to me
is a wash down with a hot soapy sponge
followed by tucking us in the folds of my bed
ha, such expedience is to be denied however
"we need a bath, I want a bath with you Jos"
such imperiousness as only 4 year olds weild
Negotiations thence commenced in earnest
I want assurances of near deathly quiet
and I want first go with the blue frogman
as it's the only one that works as it should
and I want to sit at the tap end with my legs out
because I don't like being squished at one end
After due consideration we compromise
I get the tap end with it's extra depth and warmth
but I have to keep my legs up my own end
which sounds anatomically impossible
but let's gloss over that for the moment
I do at least win first go with the blue frogman
So you see, it wasn't my irresponsibility at all
that led to merry splashing in the early hours
a complete drenching of the bathroom floor
an instant reneging on the deathly quiet promise
I'm completely unable to compose a serious face
as I try to explain how this wasn't my fault.
it's the exact tone from my childhood
whipping my head around knowing I won't see
my mother resplendent there in her ire
those ancient towering rages with hissing lips
and hands itching to do their own damage
No when I turn my head I just see her
my sister, and so parody comes to play
I look over at William but he's no help
he knows I'll take the fall for whatever it is
he always has the perfect alibi that one
he just shrugs waiting to see what'll unfold
We're sitting in the bathtub at 2 in the morning
I 'm torpedoing our frogmen with bath balls
whilst William is making not-so mini tsunamis
resulting in some splash-out unnoticed by me
well at least until a proper grown up arrives
causing the mantle of responsibility to re-settle
Funny really, it all started innocently enough
as pretty much all of these things do I find
with a squeaky creak of the door in the dark hours
"Jos I've been sick and it's all everywhere"
an altogether accurate assessment as it turns out
he looks like he's been dipped in a vat of vomit
Well the only solution presenting itself to me
is a wash down with a hot soapy sponge
followed by tucking us in the folds of my bed
ha, such expedience is to be denied however
"we need a bath, I want a bath with you Jos"
such imperiousness as only 4 year olds weild
Negotiations thence commenced in earnest
I want assurances of near deathly quiet
and I want first go with the blue frogman
as it's the only one that works as it should
and I want to sit at the tap end with my legs out
because I don't like being squished at one end
After due consideration we compromise
I get the tap end with it's extra depth and warmth
but I have to keep my legs up my own end
which sounds anatomically impossible
but let's gloss over that for the moment
I do at least win first go with the blue frogman
So you see, it wasn't my irresponsibility at all
that led to merry splashing in the early hours
a complete drenching of the bathroom floor
an instant reneging on the deathly quiet promise
I'm completely unable to compose a serious face
as I try to explain how this wasn't my fault.
Change
Measures have their counter-measures
as arguments do their counter-points
why do we strive so for balance
how much do we give of ourselves
in this endless battle to deny change
Is it instinctual this form of resistance
a feature of having too fearful a nature
a lack of courage in times of flux
building our constructs, one upon another
in an ultimately vain attempt to prevent
Even so change comes in it’s own time
sweeping aside these puny defences
from our carefully regimented lives
leaving us at the mercy of uncertainty
an age old foe fashioned long ago
In memories born during our childhood
a time when we learnt of such perils
how a slipping of a hand-hold barely noticed
results in frantic searching amongst the crowd
finding only strangers faces all around
Shouting with increasingly panicked voice
only to discover that the reason
we have not been heard is that our voice
so loud inside our own head is there only
as we stand frozen, silently screaming
So it is that we learn of changes deft swiftness
the silent approach catching us unaware
plunging us from here to god knows where
with such abandon are we thus abandoned
to the vagaries of a now unfamiliar land
A place where we must learn new ways to be
avoiding the pitfall, a temptation to fall prey
to that urge to re-create in some small way
the familiar feel of our now redundant past
for what was, now no longer is. It has changed.
as arguments do their counter-points
why do we strive so for balance
how much do we give of ourselves
in this endless battle to deny change
Is it instinctual this form of resistance
a feature of having too fearful a nature
a lack of courage in times of flux
building our constructs, one upon another
in an ultimately vain attempt to prevent
Even so change comes in it’s own time
sweeping aside these puny defences
from our carefully regimented lives
leaving us at the mercy of uncertainty
an age old foe fashioned long ago
In memories born during our childhood
a time when we learnt of such perils
how a slipping of a hand-hold barely noticed
results in frantic searching amongst the crowd
finding only strangers faces all around
Shouting with increasingly panicked voice
only to discover that the reason
we have not been heard is that our voice
so loud inside our own head is there only
as we stand frozen, silently screaming
So it is that we learn of changes deft swiftness
the silent approach catching us unaware
plunging us from here to god knows where
with such abandon are we thus abandoned
to the vagaries of a now unfamiliar land
A place where we must learn new ways to be
avoiding the pitfall, a temptation to fall prey
to that urge to re-create in some small way
the familiar feel of our now redundant past
for what was, now no longer is. It has changed.
Lifeline
I get scared by my thoughts
do you?
I've been doing that thing
I sometimes do
looking in the mirror
staring into my eyes
wondering
how to be braver
to just step off
Been thinking of jumping
know what I mean?
I keep finding myself clenched
and this tightness is tiring
which adds to it
this sense of why not
which scares me
into writing it down here
my lifeline
do you?
I've been doing that thing
I sometimes do
looking in the mirror
staring into my eyes
wondering
how to be braver
to just step off
Been thinking of jumping
know what I mean?
I keep finding myself clenched
and this tightness is tiring
which adds to it
this sense of why not
which scares me
into writing it down here
my lifeline
Lost
Are you lost?
yes
Why , where are you?
here
... and where is here?
here is here
OK, but where are you?
I am where you dare not go
Which is where?
where I am
yes
Why , where are you?
here
... and where is here?
here is here
OK, but where are you?
I am where you dare not go
Which is where?
where I am
Hoping for a better past
It's not that often that something
changes in a fundamental way
the way I think on things generally
but have a read of these simple words
are you still hoping for a better past?
Oh my word well yes sir I still am
and now you come to say it like that
I see in a way I just couldn't before
how bloody ridiculous such wishing is
but where does it leave me (you) now?
I guess I'd have to say thinking again
no, not experiencing past pain afresh
thinking again on the nature of hope
a way to leave it all behind, move on
to a life without the burden of regret
Now that I have finally come to realise
each re-visit has this wish contained
an impossible dream, a different result
and yet I am so almost whole, even so
so why do I nurture the fractures then?
Is it a form of lazy narcissism at play
wallowing in pain used as an excuse
for not appreciating what's here, now
when what I feel now is so unworthy
to just enjoy ... to even to feel ... joy.
changes in a fundamental way
the way I think on things generally
but have a read of these simple words
are you still hoping for a better past?
Oh my word well yes sir I still am
and now you come to say it like that
I see in a way I just couldn't before
how bloody ridiculous such wishing is
but where does it leave me (you) now?
I guess I'd have to say thinking again
no, not experiencing past pain afresh
thinking again on the nature of hope
a way to leave it all behind, move on
to a life without the burden of regret
Now that I have finally come to realise
each re-visit has this wish contained
an impossible dream, a different result
and yet I am so almost whole, even so
so why do I nurture the fractures then?
Is it a form of lazy narcissism at play
wallowing in pain used as an excuse
for not appreciating what's here, now
when what I feel now is so unworthy
to just enjoy ... to even to feel ... joy.
Missing you
I was all right
well sort of
then you hugged me
and I fell apart
that's what happens
when you show
kindness
I know that I already
said it undoes me
because it does
and I'm left here
trying to find a way
to make it OK
but it isn't
So I'm left with
shame and pain
not your intent
which adds to it
see I do understand
but I can't help
to put it right
Except in this way
to do it here
in my safe place
where I can write
what I can't say
so many things
like I miss ... you
well sort of
then you hugged me
and I fell apart
that's what happens
when you show
kindness
I know that I already
said it undoes me
because it does
and I'm left here
trying to find a way
to make it OK
but it isn't
So I'm left with
shame and pain
not your intent
which adds to it
see I do understand
but I can't help
to put it right
Except in this way
to do it here
in my safe place
where I can write
what I can't say
so many things
like I miss ... you
Inside
I fell
and the mirror
shattered
the shards dug in
deepest red flowed
the image changed
fragmented
and I saw
And what I saw
is how I felt
shattered
for the first time
what I saw
was what is
on the inside
now outside
and the mirror
shattered
the shards dug in
deepest red flowed
the image changed
fragmented
and I saw
And what I saw
is how I felt
shattered
for the first time
what I saw
was what is
on the inside
now outside
Walking on.
I met a Seer who asked me to look
so I turned my head to follow her gaze
seeing nothing of note I turned again
to find her countenance radiant with joy
in wonder she said to me “did you see?”
wanting some part of her joy I nodded
knowing that it was a lie, I walked on
Meeting a Believer who said “have faith”
while on her knees she asked me to pray
so I said some words not of my heart
and watched as her face filled with peace
then she said to me, “your faith is strong”
wanting some part of her peace I nodded
knowing it was in part a lie, I walked on
I then met a Doer who asked for help
she looked strong in her determination
so I stayed to lend a hand in the doing
watching the tasks completed mount up
in satisfaction she said "you've done well"
wanting some regard in myself I nodded
it was in most part a lie, so I walked on
To find a Done-Toer asking for comfort
her vivid scars were clear to see
displaying her vulnerability with pride
making my heart ache as I drew near
she said “you have wounds deeper than I”
wanting to share in her comfort I nodded
an unfathomable lie, yet I walked on
Meeting a Listener who asked me to hear
even in my impatience I paused awhile
as she described such beauty in sounds
she said "you hear what others cannot"
I tried to discern beyond the cacophony
and told of melodies playing in the wind
lies written on my face as I walked on
I next met a Thinker who spoke little
in her silence she compelled me to stop
telling me that all answers lie within
so I sat pondering a purpose in it all
then she said to me “you are enlightened”
and wanting to think this true I nodded
lying time and again as I walked on
To meet a Teacher asking for wisdom
thinking I had some to share I spoke
words spilling out over each other
as I emptied myself of lessons half learnt
after a pause she said "you are a wise one"
and in my pride I nodded my agreement
more lies added to others as I walked on
And found a Healer asking of me nothing
being also a Believer, Doer, Thinker, Seer
seemingly all these things and more
my heart stood still even as I stood still
under the gaze of one seeing some of my lies
a voice said “look” and I trembled turning
to see only a Seeker walking towards truth
So I asked for meaning instead of healing
in delight the Healer laughed and said
“steps have purpose and meaning of their own
remember, beauty is found in these fragments
that make up the whole, so walk more gentley"
taking a hold of my hands the Healer smiled
as I nodded my head and turned to walk on.
so I turned my head to follow her gaze
seeing nothing of note I turned again
to find her countenance radiant with joy
in wonder she said to me “did you see?”
wanting some part of her joy I nodded
knowing that it was a lie, I walked on
Meeting a Believer who said “have faith”
while on her knees she asked me to pray
so I said some words not of my heart
and watched as her face filled with peace
then she said to me, “your faith is strong”
wanting some part of her peace I nodded
knowing it was in part a lie, I walked on
I then met a Doer who asked for help
she looked strong in her determination
so I stayed to lend a hand in the doing
watching the tasks completed mount up
in satisfaction she said "you've done well"
wanting some regard in myself I nodded
it was in most part a lie, so I walked on
To find a Done-Toer asking for comfort
her vivid scars were clear to see
displaying her vulnerability with pride
making my heart ache as I drew near
she said “you have wounds deeper than I”
wanting to share in her comfort I nodded
an unfathomable lie, yet I walked on
Meeting a Listener who asked me to hear
even in my impatience I paused awhile
as she described such beauty in sounds
she said "you hear what others cannot"
I tried to discern beyond the cacophony
and told of melodies playing in the wind
lies written on my face as I walked on
I next met a Thinker who spoke little
in her silence she compelled me to stop
telling me that all answers lie within
so I sat pondering a purpose in it all
then she said to me “you are enlightened”
and wanting to think this true I nodded
lying time and again as I walked on
To meet a Teacher asking for wisdom
thinking I had some to share I spoke
words spilling out over each other
as I emptied myself of lessons half learnt
after a pause she said "you are a wise one"
and in my pride I nodded my agreement
more lies added to others as I walked on
And found a Healer asking of me nothing
being also a Believer, Doer, Thinker, Seer
seemingly all these things and more
my heart stood still even as I stood still
under the gaze of one seeing some of my lies
a voice said “look” and I trembled turning
to see only a Seeker walking towards truth
So I asked for meaning instead of healing
in delight the Healer laughed and said
“steps have purpose and meaning of their own
remember, beauty is found in these fragments
that make up the whole, so walk more gentley"
taking a hold of my hands the Healer smiled
as I nodded my head and turned to walk on.
Flawed
If words are but our thoughts spoken
why is it madness to talk to oneself
and why is it that when looking inside
we find such duality in our own natures
craven and pure standing side by side
along with the many degrees between
We none of us are what we seem
yet knowing this, seeing the façade
would we rather believe than doubt
better perhaps to have faith in a sham
than to face uncomfortable truths
stripped down bare what do we become
Mirrors reflect only the masks worn
ears hear only words spoken aloud
if appearance is all, then all is lost
for who is capable of appearing perfect
and how can we delight in our being
being imperfect with such deep flaws
Pain at every turn when turning inward
falsehood all around looking outward
those who promise faithfulness lie
unaware that while perfection beckons
we mortals are not able to attain it
such is the grievous nature of self
Nature is by its very nature flawed
we who persist in believing otherwise
fall prey time and again to the perils
of hurt and perpetual disappointment
brought low by our own shortcomings
dashed against the rocks of recrimination
If I say I hate the person that I am
I know you in your gentle generosity
will ask me to reconsider, to be kinder
in my darkened soul lies stand upon lies
reaching ever higher towards the light
in this light I'm not at all what I seem.
why is it madness to talk to oneself
and why is it that when looking inside
we find such duality in our own natures
craven and pure standing side by side
along with the many degrees between
We none of us are what we seem
yet knowing this, seeing the façade
would we rather believe than doubt
better perhaps to have faith in a sham
than to face uncomfortable truths
stripped down bare what do we become
Mirrors reflect only the masks worn
ears hear only words spoken aloud
if appearance is all, then all is lost
for who is capable of appearing perfect
and how can we delight in our being
being imperfect with such deep flaws
Pain at every turn when turning inward
falsehood all around looking outward
those who promise faithfulness lie
unaware that while perfection beckons
we mortals are not able to attain it
such is the grievous nature of self
Nature is by its very nature flawed
we who persist in believing otherwise
fall prey time and again to the perils
of hurt and perpetual disappointment
brought low by our own shortcomings
dashed against the rocks of recrimination
If I say I hate the person that I am
I know you in your gentle generosity
will ask me to reconsider, to be kinder
in my darkened soul lies stand upon lies
reaching ever higher towards the light
in this light I'm not at all what I seem.
A promise
It’s funny how a heart can be heavy
and yet a bit lighter at the same time
strange that you’d already said goodbye
and only some time later I come to reply
How do you part from precious friends
when they’ve become something more
part of the cornerstone on which we stand
integral to the very fabric of our lives
How can a friendship still in its infancy
have come to mean so much, so soon
only because of an awareness of time
that for some it stretches too short a way
I remember these words you wrote to me
“Isn’t it great we get to know each other,
don’t you think so??” Can you imagine
how wonderful those words were to read
And it captures something quite rare
an openness for sure, but there’s more
a willingness to share your own heart
calling up a response from deep within
With little time heart must speak to heart
and so it was that our friendship was forged
even as the battle intensified towards its end
as you walked in the fire that cancer brings
Leaving us to look on from the flames edge
as they slowly engulfed you, dear heart
until at last release has come to free you
with wings you rise even as the flames die
There’s a place beyond where no regrets exist
what passes for currency there you already have
in such abundance as to be rich beyond compare
the thought of that lightens my heavy heart
It only remains for me to say this last thing
no, this is not goodbye, that I will not abide
we both know that life goes on in the beyond
I will always remember the promise we made.
and yet a bit lighter at the same time
strange that you’d already said goodbye
and only some time later I come to reply
How do you part from precious friends
when they’ve become something more
part of the cornerstone on which we stand
integral to the very fabric of our lives
How can a friendship still in its infancy
have come to mean so much, so soon
only because of an awareness of time
that for some it stretches too short a way
I remember these words you wrote to me
“Isn’t it great we get to know each other,
don’t you think so??” Can you imagine
how wonderful those words were to read
And it captures something quite rare
an openness for sure, but there’s more
a willingness to share your own heart
calling up a response from deep within
With little time heart must speak to heart
and so it was that our friendship was forged
even as the battle intensified towards its end
as you walked in the fire that cancer brings
Leaving us to look on from the flames edge
as they slowly engulfed you, dear heart
until at last release has come to free you
with wings you rise even as the flames die
There’s a place beyond where no regrets exist
what passes for currency there you already have
in such abundance as to be rich beyond compare
the thought of that lightens my heavy heart
It only remains for me to say this last thing
no, this is not goodbye, that I will not abide
we both know that life goes on in the beyond
I will always remember the promise we made.
Safe Havens
Safe havens come in many forms
sometimes containing things
previously considered unsafe
only upon reflection with the relative
comfort of distance can it be seen
that everything has its own nature
Maybe by learning the nature of things
predictability can reduce randomness
not altogether but perhaps just enough
anxiety lessening as excitement grows
a fascination in the prediction process
reducing those old fears and distress
A lesson that if carried forward
creates safer havens in more forms
a confidence that should unexpected
events occur, this is not in or of itself
a matter that need be of undue concern
safety thus becomes a state of mind
I went to just such a place recently
where through warmth and laughter
I learnt again that difference is good
more inclusive than banal uniformity
spectrum of diversity becoming the norm
appreciated for its multicoloured hue
Some safe havens draw you into them
so instead of the feeling on the outside
I’m ushered in to take a chair by the fire
sat in a resting place with good company
accepted without question or distrust
trusting in turn bringing its own reward
Wisdom falls often on stony ground
but wandering once more upon the path
of recollection, happening on a stone
upon which are written simple words
saying when hard things happen in life
it helps to know there will be an after
Now that is treasure worth pocketing
and carrying home this precious gift
I ponder how to share it back to its giver
along with gratitude for time and welcome
with truly healing hugs and mugs of tea
made stronger by bonds of friendship.
sometimes containing things
previously considered unsafe
only upon reflection with the relative
comfort of distance can it be seen
that everything has its own nature
Maybe by learning the nature of things
predictability can reduce randomness
not altogether but perhaps just enough
anxiety lessening as excitement grows
a fascination in the prediction process
reducing those old fears and distress
A lesson that if carried forward
creates safer havens in more forms
a confidence that should unexpected
events occur, this is not in or of itself
a matter that need be of undue concern
safety thus becomes a state of mind
I went to just such a place recently
where through warmth and laughter
I learnt again that difference is good
more inclusive than banal uniformity
spectrum of diversity becoming the norm
appreciated for its multicoloured hue
Some safe havens draw you into them
so instead of the feeling on the outside
I’m ushered in to take a chair by the fire
sat in a resting place with good company
accepted without question or distrust
trusting in turn bringing its own reward
Wisdom falls often on stony ground
but wandering once more upon the path
of recollection, happening on a stone
upon which are written simple words
saying when hard things happen in life
it helps to know there will be an after
Now that is treasure worth pocketing
and carrying home this precious gift
I ponder how to share it back to its giver
along with gratitude for time and welcome
with truly healing hugs and mugs of tea
made stronger by bonds of friendship.
Another request
There are valleys of pain
once in you must walk through
the steep sides cannot be climbed
there are no shortcuts to up and away
Pain has it’s own lessons to teach
and won’t stand by being unheard
patience holds hands with pain
forcing us to be still and experience
To surrender some part of ourselves
to the inevitability that release
comes only in its own time, not ours
that it has meaning beyond existence
I would that this were not so, even so
but power over such matters as this
lies elsewhere, if indeed it lies anywhere
surely a subject of its own plunging depths
Beyond reasoning even as I rage
at the injustice that allows pain
to be wrought so indiscriminately
robbing us of ourselves and others
To the point where even existence itself
seems pointless when we cannot know
what fate holds, how life will unfold
turning corners onto unknown avenues
Where the gods promise only uncertainty
well, certainly in this life if not the next
the cycle of life perpetuates the myth
that things stay the same when they don’t
Is pain visited only on thinking beings
or is it that we are deaf to the screams
as plants wither, as leaves dry and drop
limbs falling to the ground of the forest
I would like to take The Makers hand
lead her to the place pain was first created
and ask her to unmake this one thing
unknowing of the consequences therein
once in you must walk through
the steep sides cannot be climbed
there are no shortcuts to up and away
Pain has it’s own lessons to teach
and won’t stand by being unheard
patience holds hands with pain
forcing us to be still and experience
To surrender some part of ourselves
to the inevitability that release
comes only in its own time, not ours
that it has meaning beyond existence
I would that this were not so, even so
but power over such matters as this
lies elsewhere, if indeed it lies anywhere
surely a subject of its own plunging depths
Beyond reasoning even as I rage
at the injustice that allows pain
to be wrought so indiscriminately
robbing us of ourselves and others
To the point where even existence itself
seems pointless when we cannot know
what fate holds, how life will unfold
turning corners onto unknown avenues
Where the gods promise only uncertainty
well, certainly in this life if not the next
the cycle of life perpetuates the myth
that things stay the same when they don’t
Is pain visited only on thinking beings
or is it that we are deaf to the screams
as plants wither, as leaves dry and drop
limbs falling to the ground of the forest
I would like to take The Makers hand
lead her to the place pain was first created
and ask her to unmake this one thing
unknowing of the consequences therein
Dear heart
Can I draw a circle around you?
protect you from all and sundry
I'd stand even against the gods
but will that make any difference
being only a mere mortal as I am
I stand, I make a stand beside you
I look to the skies and then I beg
for help where I cannot be myself
does it suffice ... this heartbreak
I fear not, but not because of you
I fear that such unworthy souls
are not heard, that their prayers
batter at heavens door in vain
and yet still I persist in asking
for some ease from your suffering
Can I tell you what I have learnt
in the course of our short friendship
I've learnt that some hearts open
perhaps at the least provocation
taking in souls, making them whole
You offered a love with no limits
do you even know how that feels
it's like an oasis in the parched desert
like a special kind of homecoming
and so I pray, hoping to ease your way
Looking now into the heavens
falling fervently onto my knees
I beseech on my dear hearts behalf
how can I not when it means so much
will you listen, grant this one prayer
protect you from all and sundry
I'd stand even against the gods
but will that make any difference
being only a mere mortal as I am
I stand, I make a stand beside you
I look to the skies and then I beg
for help where I cannot be myself
does it suffice ... this heartbreak
I fear not, but not because of you
I fear that such unworthy souls
are not heard, that their prayers
batter at heavens door in vain
and yet still I persist in asking
for some ease from your suffering
Can I tell you what I have learnt
in the course of our short friendship
I've learnt that some hearts open
perhaps at the least provocation
taking in souls, making them whole
You offered a love with no limits
do you even know how that feels
it's like an oasis in the parched desert
like a special kind of homecoming
and so I pray, hoping to ease your way
Looking now into the heavens
falling fervently onto my knees
I beseech on my dear hearts behalf
how can I not when it means so much
will you listen, grant this one prayer
They can dance.
It always amazes me how much you know
how is it that you have so much knowledge
even whilst wearing your little boy disguise
I love the way you glance over the table at me
reminding me of when we played twinkle eye
a game that I guess almost everyone knows
'though they probably call it all sorts of things.
So now we chat about hurricanes and tornadoes
and how you can actually spell the names of five
yes count them, five different types of dinosaur
some of whom I can't even pronounce properly
and I sit here in awe as you reel off the spellings
glowing with pride under my astonished gaze
you really truly do amaze me wonderful boy.
When we talk, who is the adult between us
I in my 47th year or you just starting your 7th
staggered as I am at how much you know
equally surprised when we fall through the gaps
with so little warning of where the edges are
especially given your tendency to leave me here
taking flight into the sky of your own imagination.
If I were to list the many things that the young
do much better than we so-called grown-ups
it would have to include this taking of flight
an ability to extrapolate from the almost known
into the unknown with such unscientific abandon
that it makes a kind of mockery on the one hand
whilst offering a new kind of wisdom on the other.
Is it only the young that dream of the impossible
or is it that on awakening we adults dispel
discount, disrespect our now latent abilities
to take flight even if only in our subconscious
and so it's not for us to sit at the breakfast table
describing riotous rides on pink dancing giraffes
when everyone know that giraffes can't dance.
Except in a story book that we both once read
and dashing upstairs, I on my slightly longer legs
make it first by a whisker to the big bookcase
but with your keener eyes you spot it and crow
the book that we'd read so many months ago
but whose funny story still lives on in your head
making night-time visits of such contagious frivolity.
.
.
.
There really is a book called "Giraffes Can't Dance".
It is one of my all time faves ... yes, and Ollies' too. xx
how is it that you have so much knowledge
even whilst wearing your little boy disguise
I love the way you glance over the table at me
reminding me of when we played twinkle eye
a game that I guess almost everyone knows
'though they probably call it all sorts of things.
So now we chat about hurricanes and tornadoes
and how you can actually spell the names of five
yes count them, five different types of dinosaur
some of whom I can't even pronounce properly
and I sit here in awe as you reel off the spellings
glowing with pride under my astonished gaze
you really truly do amaze me wonderful boy.
When we talk, who is the adult between us
I in my 47th year or you just starting your 7th
staggered as I am at how much you know
equally surprised when we fall through the gaps
with so little warning of where the edges are
especially given your tendency to leave me here
taking flight into the sky of your own imagination.
If I were to list the many things that the young
do much better than we so-called grown-ups
it would have to include this taking of flight
an ability to extrapolate from the almost known
into the unknown with such unscientific abandon
that it makes a kind of mockery on the one hand
whilst offering a new kind of wisdom on the other.
Is it only the young that dream of the impossible
or is it that on awakening we adults dispel
discount, disrespect our now latent abilities
to take flight even if only in our subconscious
and so it's not for us to sit at the breakfast table
describing riotous rides on pink dancing giraffes
when everyone know that giraffes can't dance.
Except in a story book that we both once read
and dashing upstairs, I on my slightly longer legs
make it first by a whisker to the big bookcase
but with your keener eyes you spot it and crow
the book that we'd read so many months ago
but whose funny story still lives on in your head
making night-time visits of such contagious frivolity.
.
.
.
There really is a book called "Giraffes Can't Dance".
It is one of my all time faves ... yes, and Ollies' too. xx
More about trust
The hardest thing I have ever done?
that is one of the things I love
and also so hate about you sometimes
you ask questions that demand answers
well, the hardest thing I have ever done
is to admit that I need some help.
Doesn't sound all that much does it
but admitting this leads to asking
and asking requires some trusting
which I learnt long ago is no game
to be played lightly in any sense
except I know I'm being way too serious.
I would love to have your lightness
your gentle way of saying hard things
without any hint of hurt or intensity
but still with full meaning and import
and yet in some ways I wonder about it
we protect our hearts in such myriad ways.
When first learning how to trust again
I was indiscriminate, not trusting myself
that my instincts knew what I did not
but time does it's own work even here
tempering my fear whilst inching me on
to the point where I see the point of trust.
So I stopped running and faced my fear
finding that on inspection, with help
some fears diminish in ways unimagined
that trust unlocks doors which on opening
yield their own rewards, to brave souls
who offer help and to those who accept too.
They say that fair exchange is no robbery
but what have I to offer from my meagre store
some paltry wisdom gained umpteenth hand
and isn't that where I've been going wrong
that all along I knew, but still didn't know it
I just needed some help to let me see that.
So what did I learn in my quest to trust
that some processes have no defined end
that backward steps can still be progress
that learning from pain doesn't heal it
that loneliness comes from not trusting
and finally that some risks are worth taking.
that is one of the things I love
and also so hate about you sometimes
you ask questions that demand answers
well, the hardest thing I have ever done
is to admit that I need some help.
Doesn't sound all that much does it
but admitting this leads to asking
and asking requires some trusting
which I learnt long ago is no game
to be played lightly in any sense
except I know I'm being way too serious.
I would love to have your lightness
your gentle way of saying hard things
without any hint of hurt or intensity
but still with full meaning and import
and yet in some ways I wonder about it
we protect our hearts in such myriad ways.
When first learning how to trust again
I was indiscriminate, not trusting myself
that my instincts knew what I did not
but time does it's own work even here
tempering my fear whilst inching me on
to the point where I see the point of trust.
So I stopped running and faced my fear
finding that on inspection, with help
some fears diminish in ways unimagined
that trust unlocks doors which on opening
yield their own rewards, to brave souls
who offer help and to those who accept too.
They say that fair exchange is no robbery
but what have I to offer from my meagre store
some paltry wisdom gained umpteenth hand
and isn't that where I've been going wrong
that all along I knew, but still didn't know it
I just needed some help to let me see that.
So what did I learn in my quest to trust
that some processes have no defined end
that backward steps can still be progress
that learning from pain doesn't heal it
that loneliness comes from not trusting
and finally that some risks are worth taking.
Diagnosis Day
It's been diagnosis day for nearly three weeks now
each new day it's the first thing I've thought about
each night as I've tried to sleep, the last thing too
then at odd times during the day I've drifted off to it
these paralysing thoughts, each a terrifying what if.
What if, is an endless exercise in utter futility
and yet knowing this as I do has not stopped the train
the feeling of inevitability, the ever deepening gloom
as each new diagnosis day passes without any news
I feel my grip on the here and now slipping away.
There's a special tone that those medically trained use
sort of neutral professional, no second guessing them
so talking of meetings to review pathology means what?
she says she will have to get back to me on that one
which she does, a full week later on, but she does.
There's that tone again, my butterflies hammer inside
I can hardly even take in the good part of the news
who knew that butterflies could make so much noise
or that words could become gibberish from ear to brain
that tumours can grow large but still remain benign.
Why isn't that the very first word that she said
does she think I wouldn't listen about follow up
about how next we'll go through reviews for surgery
and all that other hocus pocus magical medical guff
I just wanted to hear one word, the rest can wait.
Isn't it amazing how one word can tip the balance
between what once was and what might yet be to come
one word is like the get out of jail card in a game
but the game is one that never stops, even when we do
that's all part of what becomes the general whirl.
I've been asking myself if should I keep this quiet
perhaps whisper my gratitude for a temporary reprieve
only too aware of what some dear friends now endure
my thankfulness seems at once crass but also profound
for I am in no great rush to go fire walking again.
each new day it's the first thing I've thought about
each night as I've tried to sleep, the last thing too
then at odd times during the day I've drifted off to it
these paralysing thoughts, each a terrifying what if.
What if, is an endless exercise in utter futility
and yet knowing this as I do has not stopped the train
the feeling of inevitability, the ever deepening gloom
as each new diagnosis day passes without any news
I feel my grip on the here and now slipping away.
There's a special tone that those medically trained use
sort of neutral professional, no second guessing them
so talking of meetings to review pathology means what?
she says she will have to get back to me on that one
which she does, a full week later on, but she does.
There's that tone again, my butterflies hammer inside
I can hardly even take in the good part of the news
who knew that butterflies could make so much noise
or that words could become gibberish from ear to brain
that tumours can grow large but still remain benign.
Why isn't that the very first word that she said
does she think I wouldn't listen about follow up
about how next we'll go through reviews for surgery
and all that other hocus pocus magical medical guff
I just wanted to hear one word, the rest can wait.
Isn't it amazing how one word can tip the balance
between what once was and what might yet be to come
one word is like the get out of jail card in a game
but the game is one that never stops, even when we do
that's all part of what becomes the general whirl.
I've been asking myself if should I keep this quiet
perhaps whisper my gratitude for a temporary reprieve
only too aware of what some dear friends now endure
my thankfulness seems at once crass but also profound
for I am in no great rush to go fire walking again.
Hearing from you.
When you told me
the tears flowed
I wanted so much
to touch
to hold you
ease you
the loneliness
since I can't
be here and there
I must stay here
but
I'm sending you
my true heart
always believing
in our friendship
in more care
yet another prayer
and I'll hope
to ease your heart
despite my absence
I am with you.
We talk of hope
cry out our despair
and I listen
to the weight
of your heavy heart
I hear the depth
of your pain
I would walk
any distance
by your side
but
Some types of walk
must happen alone
well, almost so
no
don't turn your head
or you will only see
what lies behind
past dreams long dead
but up ahead
there lies hope.
I admire your strength
the courage to say
to still trust
me
it scares me though
what if my heart
is found wanting
when you need me most
isn't there risk
in all things
but
Trust begets more
so I open my heart
show you the core
knowing you take care
more tears flow
and as my heart eases
along with yours
I say that I'm always glad
to hear from you
my friend.
the tears flowed
I wanted so much
to touch
to hold you
ease you
the loneliness
since I can't
be here and there
I must stay here
but
I'm sending you
my true heart
always believing
in our friendship
in more care
yet another prayer
and I'll hope
to ease your heart
despite my absence
I am with you.
We talk of hope
cry out our despair
and I listen
to the weight
of your heavy heart
I hear the depth
of your pain
I would walk
any distance
by your side
but
Some types of walk
must happen alone
well, almost so
no
don't turn your head
or you will only see
what lies behind
past dreams long dead
but up ahead
there lies hope.
I admire your strength
the courage to say
to still trust
me
it scares me though
what if my heart
is found wanting
when you need me most
isn't there risk
in all things
but
Trust begets more
so I open my heart
show you the core
knowing you take care
more tears flow
and as my heart eases
along with yours
I say that I'm always glad
to hear from you
my friend.
Didn't we both?
He has been re-visiting me in my dreams
some things just do not let go I guess
monster men are like that though, they stay
so he comes back uninvited into my thoughts
but why? I wish I knew, I can not say
a certain kind of smile, a dead eyed look
I wonder if it is the same way for you
sitting there surrounded by 4 white walls
injected with some prescription oblivion
will we ever be free, can you find hope
how do you slay monsters from the past
if I knew how, well bloody hell, I'd tell you
I remember looking at you with him too
didn't we lock eyes just to see us through
when he made us do such unspeakable things
did we not seal some sort of pact back then
to not allow this to define the us we'd become
somehow we're letting him control us still
Brendan, I love you, do you know what I mean
I know how it is, I remember it all too well
you were a small boy, with no understanding
and I an even smaller girl with some I suppose
except I had none, can you know things so young
I knew how to keep quiet though, didn't we both?
I would ... heal us both ... if I only could.
some things just do not let go I guess
monster men are like that though, they stay
so he comes back uninvited into my thoughts
but why? I wish I knew, I can not say
a certain kind of smile, a dead eyed look
I wonder if it is the same way for you
sitting there surrounded by 4 white walls
injected with some prescription oblivion
will we ever be free, can you find hope
how do you slay monsters from the past
if I knew how, well bloody hell, I'd tell you
I remember looking at you with him too
didn't we lock eyes just to see us through
when he made us do such unspeakable things
did we not seal some sort of pact back then
to not allow this to define the us we'd become
somehow we're letting him control us still
Brendan, I love you, do you know what I mean
I know how it is, I remember it all too well
you were a small boy, with no understanding
and I an even smaller girl with some I suppose
except I had none, can you know things so young
I knew how to keep quiet though, didn't we both?
I would ... heal us both ... if I only could.
Wandering off
I turned my back upon myself
or rather on the me I want to be
I told myself the same old lies
just want a bit of shade I said
I won't wander off too far
then I did just as I knew I would
I turned my back upon the open skies
I walked towards the forest's edge
I looked, paused, then looked again
and then I ran into it's dark heart
seeking in it's black inky depths
the solace of temporary oblivion
What kind of madness is this
to pour pain upon yet more pain
do I honour myself so poorly still
it seems so, for I do not stop
not until awareness steals off
leaving me prone on the forest floor
And on awakening what do I find
wreckage all around and within
the me I have once again become
the one I'd hoped to leave behind
have I still so little resolve
that at every turn I turn and flee
Where then is my belief in hope
so frail it blows away in the wind
like the seeds on a dandelion head
delicate parachutes drifting by
is this how I determine my course
by following breezes fickle breath
I knew of your impending death
prepared for sadness to part company
leaving only grief in it's place
is this how I honour your memory
this is not what you would want
and yet somehow this is how I am.
or rather on the me I want to be
I told myself the same old lies
just want a bit of shade I said
I won't wander off too far
then I did just as I knew I would
I turned my back upon the open skies
I walked towards the forest's edge
I looked, paused, then looked again
and then I ran into it's dark heart
seeking in it's black inky depths
the solace of temporary oblivion
What kind of madness is this
to pour pain upon yet more pain
do I honour myself so poorly still
it seems so, for I do not stop
not until awareness steals off
leaving me prone on the forest floor
And on awakening what do I find
wreckage all around and within
the me I have once again become
the one I'd hoped to leave behind
have I still so little resolve
that at every turn I turn and flee
Where then is my belief in hope
so frail it blows away in the wind
like the seeds on a dandelion head
delicate parachutes drifting by
is this how I determine my course
by following breezes fickle breath
I knew of your impending death
prepared for sadness to part company
leaving only grief in it's place
is this how I honour your memory
this is not what you would want
and yet somehow this is how I am.
Angels in the making
Some people are actually angels in the making
I don't mean the obvious ones, the saintly ones
although I suspect they might be angels too
but every once in while someone comes along
and makes your heart sing to a different tune
makes the world around you that bit brighter
And these I believe are angels in the making
people whose hearts are much larger than ours
who find space for almost complete strangers there
and then they wrap us up in such enveloping warmth
but more, they allow us to see the person within
by sharing their frailty they show their strength
You see these people know a secret kind of truth
perhaps because of it's simplicity it passes us by
and so what is this simple way of gaining wings
here I want you to pause and listen to your heart
take a moment to reflect and see if this truth
rings out for you as it has always done for me
It is only by opening and sharing our hearts
that our lives fill with the richness of love
it is only by risking rejection that we find love
it is only by finding a way to hope against all hope
that we can pool and share our innermost strengths
what angels in the making do best of all is share
You don't have to see them to know them either
sometimes not seeing lets the heart listen better
I have noticed that more than the usual sprinkling
of angels in the making are to be found on pages
a space where our hearts are freer to reach out
perhaps in some way we are all angels in the making.
I don't mean the obvious ones, the saintly ones
although I suspect they might be angels too
but every once in while someone comes along
and makes your heart sing to a different tune
makes the world around you that bit brighter
And these I believe are angels in the making
people whose hearts are much larger than ours
who find space for almost complete strangers there
and then they wrap us up in such enveloping warmth
but more, they allow us to see the person within
by sharing their frailty they show their strength
You see these people know a secret kind of truth
perhaps because of it's simplicity it passes us by
and so what is this simple way of gaining wings
here I want you to pause and listen to your heart
take a moment to reflect and see if this truth
rings out for you as it has always done for me
It is only by opening and sharing our hearts
that our lives fill with the richness of love
it is only by risking rejection that we find love
it is only by finding a way to hope against all hope
that we can pool and share our innermost strengths
what angels in the making do best of all is share
You don't have to see them to know them either
sometimes not seeing lets the heart listen better
I have noticed that more than the usual sprinkling
of angels in the making are to be found on pages
a space where our hearts are freer to reach out
perhaps in some way we are all angels in the making.
The third day ... part 2
I didn't know that my heart
could break so silently
but it seems that it can
rainbows not withstanding.
could break so silently
but it seems that it can
rainbows not withstanding.
Soul rainbows.
I remember you telling me once
that if The Creator put it there,
then it must be in the right place
that our souls would have no rainbows
if our eyes had not shed many tears
you see I was listening after all
I will always miss you
the rich sound of your voice
the warm spontaneity of your smile
the twirl and swirl that you'd do
to show off a new dancing skirt
persuading me onto my own 2 left feet
No-one could ever make me dance but you
and I might get the hang of it yet
so that when I see you next
we can do the soft shoe shuffle again
perhaps I'll even have it perfected by then
do you think they allow dancing in heaven
I learnt a new phrase the other day
to use when special friend just won't do
heart-sister, what do you think of that
after all is said, still you know my heart
the unspoken things time did not allow
Gabriella I hear your voice still
Reminding me again of what you said
about us having rainbows in our souls
only if our eyes have shed many tears
I've always loved that simplicity in you
a sincere heart finding it's place in mine
so that now I have rainbows in my soul too
that if The Creator put it there,
then it must be in the right place
that our souls would have no rainbows
if our eyes had not shed many tears
you see I was listening after all
I will always miss you
the rich sound of your voice
the warm spontaneity of your smile
the twirl and swirl that you'd do
to show off a new dancing skirt
persuading me onto my own 2 left feet
No-one could ever make me dance but you
and I might get the hang of it yet
so that when I see you next
we can do the soft shoe shuffle again
perhaps I'll even have it perfected by then
do you think they allow dancing in heaven
I learnt a new phrase the other day
to use when special friend just won't do
heart-sister, what do you think of that
after all is said, still you know my heart
the unspoken things time did not allow
Gabriella I hear your voice still
Reminding me again of what you said
about us having rainbows in our souls
only if our eyes have shed many tears
I've always loved that simplicity in you
a sincere heart finding it's place in mine
so that now I have rainbows in my soul too
Regarding Gabriella
I have removed my most recent posts which I wrote after seeing my dear friend Gabriella. Very sadly Gabby passed away during one of our visits together over the weekend. It's just that what I wrote was pretty much a function of my initial shock and grief ... it does not do any kind of justice to the deep and lasting friendship we shared.
About last night ...
I know that you saw me watching you
I'd never make it as a secret agent
with the kind of subtlety I employ
Yes, I did hold you a second longer
during our hello hug, I was checking
which I know you know and hate too
But you see for far too long now
I've let myself fall for the disguise
turned a blind eye towards the obvious
the baggy clothes, your over bright smile
do you think your fragility doesn't show
that it makes you any less in my eyes
Am I really doing you any favours here
by pretending that I can't see you
that I am unaware of your difficulties
how do you balance privacy with care
when delicacy is next only to subtlety
in my least applicable social skills
To be honest I don't know how to try
we've been part way down this path before
where you've made it abundantly clear
that you don't want to talk about this
but how can I not when I see your pain
I can see that you're slowly losing ground
Are you afraid that I will say something
well, you're not nearly as scared as me
I'm all to aware of how frightening it is
to let anyone in to see the real struggle
the tangled web of half truths exposed
how to make a start with re-assurances
I know about the massive gulf there is
between mere aquaintance and friendship
but I don't know whether you see that
you call me friend, but do friends do this
and here again I question the balance
between unwelcome interference and help
I am no expert here, not even close
but your pain is palpable and real
where is the path that makes it possible
to allow one another the dignity and space
to find a way through all this stuff
whilst allowing us also to stand alongside
If I wait to find out I risk even more
because I know that you saw me watching
so I thought ... what if I write it down
that way you'll know that in spite of fear
there's comfort in shared understanding
I just wanted you to know that I'm here
I'd never make it as a secret agent
with the kind of subtlety I employ
Yes, I did hold you a second longer
during our hello hug, I was checking
which I know you know and hate too
But you see for far too long now
I've let myself fall for the disguise
turned a blind eye towards the obvious
the baggy clothes, your over bright smile
do you think your fragility doesn't show
that it makes you any less in my eyes
Am I really doing you any favours here
by pretending that I can't see you
that I am unaware of your difficulties
how do you balance privacy with care
when delicacy is next only to subtlety
in my least applicable social skills
To be honest I don't know how to try
we've been part way down this path before
where you've made it abundantly clear
that you don't want to talk about this
but how can I not when I see your pain
I can see that you're slowly losing ground
Are you afraid that I will say something
well, you're not nearly as scared as me
I'm all to aware of how frightening it is
to let anyone in to see the real struggle
the tangled web of half truths exposed
how to make a start with re-assurances
I know about the massive gulf there is
between mere aquaintance and friendship
but I don't know whether you see that
you call me friend, but do friends do this
and here again I question the balance
between unwelcome interference and help
I am no expert here, not even close
but your pain is palpable and real
where is the path that makes it possible
to allow one another the dignity and space
to find a way through all this stuff
whilst allowing us also to stand alongside
If I wait to find out I risk even more
because I know that you saw me watching
so I thought ... what if I write it down
that way you'll know that in spite of fear
there's comfort in shared understanding
I just wanted you to know that I'm here
For the giantess in my life
He looked up at me and said "I like being people"
funny how some simple statements say so much
is it that in young minds there are fewer boundaries
and so perhaps wisdom is more an instinctual thing
but the idea that there is an element of choice here
that being people is just one option amongst many
well I have to say that this idea just blew me away
"I like being people too" I said, looking down at him
"but if we weren't people what would you like to be?"
and thus began the kind of conversation I love to have
eyes alive and dancing with all of these possibilities
we range through being sharks, to rocks, to trees
taking a predictable route through jungle animals
insects, birds, crocodiles, yes that sounds like fun
He'll be disappointed to learn that we don't change
even if we really really really want to be different
we stay being people ... well, at least we seem to
he won't be in the least bit satisfied with "let's pretend"
and I don't blame him one little bit, he wants "real"
he wants to swim in the sea and hunt other fish
to fly around like a bat by sonar and hang in caves
But then why do I assume that change is impossible
why allow myself to close these doors in my mind
curbing my big person instinct to correct and re-direct
I ask instead "how will I know it's you if you're a bat?"
I wouldn't want to gobble him up in my crocodile guise
and here the young mind shows that it's in it's element
well we'll know by our eyes of course. Oh, of course.
We get home and take down the big science book
it's a firm favourite with all of it's colourful pictures
we want to look at all the kinds of eyes there are
and you wouldn't believe the variety of them all
big, small, round, oval, slitty, slotty, sideways on
it seems that we'll have to find a better way to know
I leave him to ponder that one tucking him up in bed
Do you ever watch children when they are sleeping
I do. Being an auntie involves this precious privilege
I watch as indescribable dreams flit across their faces
stirrings that sometimes lead to all out flailing about
trusted to be on hand for the odd awakening shout
soothing small boys with my big person presence
re-assuring them that I guard against night monsters
There is something so healing about being here
seeing and almost living a different kind of childhood
contributing in my small way towards a better history
and whose generous heart makes all of this possible?
well you see, I have a sister who is my very best friend
she's my little sister, who's taller, but still littler
except in the things that matter, she's a giantess there.
funny how some simple statements say so much
is it that in young minds there are fewer boundaries
and so perhaps wisdom is more an instinctual thing
but the idea that there is an element of choice here
that being people is just one option amongst many
well I have to say that this idea just blew me away
"I like being people too" I said, looking down at him
"but if we weren't people what would you like to be?"
and thus began the kind of conversation I love to have
eyes alive and dancing with all of these possibilities
we range through being sharks, to rocks, to trees
taking a predictable route through jungle animals
insects, birds, crocodiles, yes that sounds like fun
He'll be disappointed to learn that we don't change
even if we really really really want to be different
we stay being people ... well, at least we seem to
he won't be in the least bit satisfied with "let's pretend"
and I don't blame him one little bit, he wants "real"
he wants to swim in the sea and hunt other fish
to fly around like a bat by sonar and hang in caves
But then why do I assume that change is impossible
why allow myself to close these doors in my mind
curbing my big person instinct to correct and re-direct
I ask instead "how will I know it's you if you're a bat?"
I wouldn't want to gobble him up in my crocodile guise
and here the young mind shows that it's in it's element
well we'll know by our eyes of course. Oh, of course.
We get home and take down the big science book
it's a firm favourite with all of it's colourful pictures
we want to look at all the kinds of eyes there are
and you wouldn't believe the variety of them all
big, small, round, oval, slitty, slotty, sideways on
it seems that we'll have to find a better way to know
I leave him to ponder that one tucking him up in bed
Do you ever watch children when they are sleeping
I do. Being an auntie involves this precious privilege
I watch as indescribable dreams flit across their faces
stirrings that sometimes lead to all out flailing about
trusted to be on hand for the odd awakening shout
soothing small boys with my big person presence
re-assuring them that I guard against night monsters
There is something so healing about being here
seeing and almost living a different kind of childhood
contributing in my small way towards a better history
and whose generous heart makes all of this possible?
well you see, I have a sister who is my very best friend
she's my little sister, who's taller, but still littler
except in the things that matter, she's a giantess there.
Pre-dawn soccer playing in the rain.
How are your present wrapping skills
good, bad, indifferent, how can you tell
well, try wrapping up a soccer ball
no cheating, only paper, and not too much
then present your present to a 4 year old
asking can you guess what it is, can you?
If there is any hesitation toss lightly
catching nonchalantly if you possibly can
then grin your widest conspiratorial grin
so that when the light goes on in his face
and his answer is correct you can say
well surely only 4 year olds are this smart
But be prepared because despite the weather
or the fact that it is just after 5 am
that it is raining ... that it is still dark
soccer will commence despite these small concerns
after all, all small boys have flashlights
and they carry spares for forgetful aunties
So venturing forth into the rainy darkness
we share a doubtful look, will this be fun?
well here is where aunties must show their worth
with a whoop I dash towards the farthest goal
thanking my lucky stars that the ball is white
and that the wet ground is soft if sludgy
Slip-sliding my way across what once was lawn
but has long since now become a mucky mire
I skid, then slip, then bum-slide along
but the ball ... goes ... in! GOAL I yell
and picking myself up I gather my nephew
into the biggest muddiest birthday hug ever.
There are fewer better ways to start the day
that leave an otherwise average middle aged woman
resembling in all but size a 4 year old child
than full on pre-dawn soccer playing in the rain
and tomorrow when I look at the resulting bruises
I will, I absolutely will think it was worth it.
good, bad, indifferent, how can you tell
well, try wrapping up a soccer ball
no cheating, only paper, and not too much
then present your present to a 4 year old
asking can you guess what it is, can you?
If there is any hesitation toss lightly
catching nonchalantly if you possibly can
then grin your widest conspiratorial grin
so that when the light goes on in his face
and his answer is correct you can say
well surely only 4 year olds are this smart
But be prepared because despite the weather
or the fact that it is just after 5 am
that it is raining ... that it is still dark
soccer will commence despite these small concerns
after all, all small boys have flashlights
and they carry spares for forgetful aunties
So venturing forth into the rainy darkness
we share a doubtful look, will this be fun?
well here is where aunties must show their worth
with a whoop I dash towards the farthest goal
thanking my lucky stars that the ball is white
and that the wet ground is soft if sludgy
Slip-sliding my way across what once was lawn
but has long since now become a mucky mire
I skid, then slip, then bum-slide along
but the ball ... goes ... in! GOAL I yell
and picking myself up I gather my nephew
into the biggest muddiest birthday hug ever.
There are fewer better ways to start the day
that leave an otherwise average middle aged woman
resembling in all but size a 4 year old child
than full on pre-dawn soccer playing in the rain
and tomorrow when I look at the resulting bruises
I will, I absolutely will think it was worth it.
The nature of hope
I have long been a believer in hope
although not always sure of it's source
or indeed of it's purpose if any
but there is power in small words
and for me the two that resonate
in the deepest chambers of my heart
have always been joy and hope.
Joy because it is this that I hope for
and hope because without it
there is no point in trying at anything
but it is more than that really
there will come hopeless days
joyless times arrive unannounced
life turns in such unexpected ways
It can seem on these sorts of days
that hope has withdrawn from us
hidden it's face for fear of rejection
because pain is one of it's many foes
robbing us of that special sight
that let's us to cling to hope's light
but although unseen hope remains
The problem with hopelessness
is that in itself it robs us of more
depleted we can succumb to fear
a potent foe and pains dearest friend
these two would have us ravaged
toss us into the merciless storms
but even here some hope remains
Because hope is not vanquished
although it's light can seem very dim
it waits only as it dare not encroach
on what looks like a hopeless situation
but here the secret is to look again
and if for any reason strength fails you
I will pray, I will gather hope's strength
For what is prayer but an exercise in hope
hope that you will find comfort and meaning
hope that you will find strength to hope
hope that you will feel surrounded by love
hope that your myriad of friends will uphold you
hope that your tribulations will ease
and of healing, yes I hope with all my heart
Did you know that you are a source of joy
perhaps I've have neglected to tell you
assuming as I do that your heart knows mine
and thus I need not mention this
it's in the constancy of your kindness
the wickedness of your raucous laughter
what, you don't think I can hear it from here?
On days when you feel no hope at all
I want you to know that it stands there
an invisible fiery angel with feathery wings
it stands right next to you dear heart
perhaps just beyond your vision for today
but later on ... who knows what awaits
and isn't that just the nature of hope.
All my love. Always. xx Jos
although not always sure of it's source
or indeed of it's purpose if any
but there is power in small words
and for me the two that resonate
in the deepest chambers of my heart
have always been joy and hope.
Joy because it is this that I hope for
and hope because without it
there is no point in trying at anything
but it is more than that really
there will come hopeless days
joyless times arrive unannounced
life turns in such unexpected ways
It can seem on these sorts of days
that hope has withdrawn from us
hidden it's face for fear of rejection
because pain is one of it's many foes
robbing us of that special sight
that let's us to cling to hope's light
but although unseen hope remains
The problem with hopelessness
is that in itself it robs us of more
depleted we can succumb to fear
a potent foe and pains dearest friend
these two would have us ravaged
toss us into the merciless storms
but even here some hope remains
Because hope is not vanquished
although it's light can seem very dim
it waits only as it dare not encroach
on what looks like a hopeless situation
but here the secret is to look again
and if for any reason strength fails you
I will pray, I will gather hope's strength
For what is prayer but an exercise in hope
hope that you will find comfort and meaning
hope that you will find strength to hope
hope that you will feel surrounded by love
hope that your myriad of friends will uphold you
hope that your tribulations will ease
and of healing, yes I hope with all my heart
Did you know that you are a source of joy
perhaps I've have neglected to tell you
assuming as I do that your heart knows mine
and thus I need not mention this
it's in the constancy of your kindness
the wickedness of your raucous laughter
what, you don't think I can hear it from here?
On days when you feel no hope at all
I want you to know that it stands there
an invisible fiery angel with feathery wings
it stands right next to you dear heart
perhaps just beyond your vision for today
but later on ... who knows what awaits
and isn't that just the nature of hope.
All my love. Always. xx Jos
The cycle of harm
What happens when the "done to" become "doers" themselves
ah now there is a topic that needs some consideration
and the picture you posted led me to all night thinking
for in my many attempts to heal I've thankfully never once
considered the possibility of becoming a "doer", and yet
From the outset I settled to never become a parent myself
unsure that the damage done wouldn't do more in turn
so this taking out of insurance against possible infliction
has had consequences not considered those many years ago
an enduring self doubt heightened at the advent of Charlotte
A girl who may have proved something but hadn't the chance
passing as she did straight from the womb to immortality
where whispers of what might have been become meaningless
and anyway what if these doubts were in fact with foundation
well then eternity is a safe place from any mortal harm
But back to the question of "done to's" becoming "doers"
never an inevitability and yet never without some risk
the instinct to inflict pain in order to heal is not new
but whilst some choose to do to others, most choose themselves
perhaps this part of the cycle of harm is an unseen outcome
Because some things are hard to say for just about everyone
and no more so than when describing these innermost aspects
these hallowed halls of our minds eye, our individual creations
where thoughts can play themselves out in indescribable ways
repeatedly defeating the constructs of our own poor defense
Leading in it's own turn to the quest to defeat that within us
and here the choices are skewed in a way not often appreciated
for people more complete cannot easily imagine the fragility
or the viewpoint towards this ever diminishing horizon
resulting from defeats endured during our internal warfare
But that is not to say that "doers" must therefore be excused
or that pain suffered can in any way be used as justification
I refuse to believe that there is no knowledge here of wrong
and I fully concede that some gain a kind of twisted satisfaction
from inflicting the darkness within, continuing the cycle of harm
So what is the answer here, how do we break through the cycle
I suppose we start as ever from both within and without
looking to heal both perpetrators of harm and their victims
accepting that those who do abhorrent things to others
are the flip side of those doing such harm to themselves
Can we turn our backs because of our own limited horizons
our inability to comprehend two sides of the same coin
do we pillory because it is simpler than striving for wisdom
despite knowing that such complex matters require more of us
that any solution discarding some involved is no solution at all
What if I were asked to sit face to face with my monster man
would I understand ... would he? Would any difference result
or would the cycle of harm thus continue into perpetuity
how would this in any way stop the goings on behind closed doors
does asking people to face their own monsters diminish them?
In the here and now we can only work to provide escape routes
and truly safe havens widely known of and available to all
guarding against those who would prey on these vulnerable ones
whilst at the same time building, diminishing the vulnerability
somehow though we must also address healing doers of harm too.
... and what of the picture that prompted this train of thought?
Well if you are interested, follow this link;
Circling My Head: Soundless Saturday No. 57
... and whilst you're there have a look at the rest of Renee's incredible blog, it is full of wisdom and the kind of reality that celebrates life's richness.
ah now there is a topic that needs some consideration
and the picture you posted led me to all night thinking
for in my many attempts to heal I've thankfully never once
considered the possibility of becoming a "doer", and yet
From the outset I settled to never become a parent myself
unsure that the damage done wouldn't do more in turn
so this taking out of insurance against possible infliction
has had consequences not considered those many years ago
an enduring self doubt heightened at the advent of Charlotte
A girl who may have proved something but hadn't the chance
passing as she did straight from the womb to immortality
where whispers of what might have been become meaningless
and anyway what if these doubts were in fact with foundation
well then eternity is a safe place from any mortal harm
But back to the question of "done to's" becoming "doers"
never an inevitability and yet never without some risk
the instinct to inflict pain in order to heal is not new
but whilst some choose to do to others, most choose themselves
perhaps this part of the cycle of harm is an unseen outcome
Because some things are hard to say for just about everyone
and no more so than when describing these innermost aspects
these hallowed halls of our minds eye, our individual creations
where thoughts can play themselves out in indescribable ways
repeatedly defeating the constructs of our own poor defense
Leading in it's own turn to the quest to defeat that within us
and here the choices are skewed in a way not often appreciated
for people more complete cannot easily imagine the fragility
or the viewpoint towards this ever diminishing horizon
resulting from defeats endured during our internal warfare
But that is not to say that "doers" must therefore be excused
or that pain suffered can in any way be used as justification
I refuse to believe that there is no knowledge here of wrong
and I fully concede that some gain a kind of twisted satisfaction
from inflicting the darkness within, continuing the cycle of harm
So what is the answer here, how do we break through the cycle
I suppose we start as ever from both within and without
looking to heal both perpetrators of harm and their victims
accepting that those who do abhorrent things to others
are the flip side of those doing such harm to themselves
Can we turn our backs because of our own limited horizons
our inability to comprehend two sides of the same coin
do we pillory because it is simpler than striving for wisdom
despite knowing that such complex matters require more of us
that any solution discarding some involved is no solution at all
What if I were asked to sit face to face with my monster man
would I understand ... would he? Would any difference result
or would the cycle of harm thus continue into perpetuity
how would this in any way stop the goings on behind closed doors
does asking people to face their own monsters diminish them?
In the here and now we can only work to provide escape routes
and truly safe havens widely known of and available to all
guarding against those who would prey on these vulnerable ones
whilst at the same time building, diminishing the vulnerability
somehow though we must also address healing doers of harm too.
... and what of the picture that prompted this train of thought?
Well if you are interested, follow this link;
Circling My Head: Soundless Saturday No. 57
... and whilst you're there have a look at the rest of Renee's incredible blog, it is full of wisdom and the kind of reality that celebrates life's richness.
A loss of trust
So what then becomes of trust
in the face of self betrayal
is there a way of reconciling
more than one version of oneself
the person who once was
with this new not-so-nice one
Why has time not brought wisdom
or forgiveness, even awareness
having broken with trust
does trust permanently turn it’s face
is there no recompense
or some allowance for redemption
I will put this to one side for now
find a place, some dusty corner
to lay this mirror of introspection
not in denial but in sad defeat
that reconciliation is some way off
but life’s other matters beckon too
in the face of self betrayal
is there a way of reconciling
more than one version of oneself
the person who once was
with this new not-so-nice one
Why has time not brought wisdom
or forgiveness, even awareness
having broken with trust
does trust permanently turn it’s face
is there no recompense
or some allowance for redemption
I will put this to one side for now
find a place, some dusty corner
to lay this mirror of introspection
not in denial but in sad defeat
that reconciliation is some way off
but life’s other matters beckon too
Is this it?
And so from a dream world
back to reality
and the reality is
that there is no drama here
only a troubled heart
bruised by my own stupidity
And so a feeling of confusion
this deep unease
I thought I'd resolved
or at least put to one side
treasured without regret
outside my life's usual pattern
I need to learn to listen
not just to hear
and then act anyway
putting you in an impossible position
with nothing to say
that I will willingly hear
And I now think you did try
perhaps too tenderly
to steer me clear
of the danger I myself caused
the damage is done now
and so I worry for your heart
Do you remember telling me once
that women don't break
our strength is like the willow
whose branches bend and sway
the wood is green within
not easily splintered apart
I remember thinking
about re-winding back
to just seconds before
I reacted to what I know believe
was just your attempt to heal
this impossible wound
I guess I mis-understood
in every possible way
in my total astonishment
and wonder at my own response
I lost sight of your intent
and created this interpretation
Thinking you wanted to explore
experience this newness
exhibiting your inherent bravery
which I mistook as your own desire
but here in retrospect
I suspect you were at a loss too
How to stop without causing hurt
trying words here and there
which I heard but didn't
lost as I was in these sensations
never before felt, not even close
but that is no real excuse
For I know better than most
how it feels to be used
to be bent towards anothers' will
so my heart fills with abhorrent shame
at the very possibility
that I could be guilty of such things
But if I don't consider this
as at least conceivable
then I am guilty in turn
of doing what I couldn't bear to do
and although it pains me incredibly
I wonder if this is in fact true.
back to reality
and the reality is
that there is no drama here
only a troubled heart
bruised by my own stupidity
And so a feeling of confusion
this deep unease
I thought I'd resolved
or at least put to one side
treasured without regret
outside my life's usual pattern
I need to learn to listen
not just to hear
and then act anyway
putting you in an impossible position
with nothing to say
that I will willingly hear
And I now think you did try
perhaps too tenderly
to steer me clear
of the danger I myself caused
the damage is done now
and so I worry for your heart
Do you remember telling me once
that women don't break
our strength is like the willow
whose branches bend and sway
the wood is green within
not easily splintered apart
I remember thinking
about re-winding back
to just seconds before
I reacted to what I know believe
was just your attempt to heal
this impossible wound
I guess I mis-understood
in every possible way
in my total astonishment
and wonder at my own response
I lost sight of your intent
and created this interpretation
Thinking you wanted to explore
experience this newness
exhibiting your inherent bravery
which I mistook as your own desire
but here in retrospect
I suspect you were at a loss too
How to stop without causing hurt
trying words here and there
which I heard but didn't
lost as I was in these sensations
never before felt, not even close
but that is no real excuse
For I know better than most
how it feels to be used
to be bent towards anothers' will
so my heart fills with abhorrent shame
at the very possibility
that I could be guilty of such things
But if I don't consider this
as at least conceivable
then I am guilty in turn
of doing what I couldn't bear to do
and although it pains me incredibly
I wonder if this is in fact true.
More thoughts of you
I know why I was thinking about this
re-visiting forbidden thoughts I'd shut away
except they just didn't stay that way
and from forbidden I travelled to suppression
but that didn't work very well either
so I travelled further on towards denial
However adept I become at self delusion
I am still left with the knowledge of you
and however this plays out over time to come
I cannot, will not and don't want to deny this
that you impacted on me so unexpectedly
that I am left here breathless in wonderment
Do you remember me saying some time ago
that I can write words that I just can't say
bound as I am by this all consuming fear
that you ignore and thus help me to discount too
I wonder sometimes if you're playing games
using my inexperience as if I were a novelty toy
If I said such things aloud I would be bereft
because there's no response that you could give
in light of my distrust you'd feel duty bound
to re-assure and thus I somehow betray you too
I wish that I could do as it seems that you can
take it as it is, freely given, freely taken, just free
Does this kind of thing happen for a reason
so many mysteries and so my utter confusion
focuses not on the consequences but on the why
moving beyond repercussions to see if there is more
or less in which case the fallout must be contained
except ... except there's this, how can I describe it
I think of you and it just makes me smile inside
I feel with you in a way my normal life doesn't allow
and yet I must acknowledge some consequences
in living my life with such separateness from others
I am uniquely ill equipped to deal with all this
unable to weigh it's significance in your world
So it is that we're back to the question of games
asking of myself the answer to this uncertainty
at a loss to explain this new duality of desire
when desire itself was hard won in the first place
sullied as it was by the ever present monster
who stalks me even through the barrier of death
But that needn't concern you except I know it does
for in telling you of how it was to be stalked
I risked conferring on you some responsibility
to treat me more gently, and here's the crux
what if it is only me that wants, that desires
and you just haven't the heart to tell me so.
re-visiting forbidden thoughts I'd shut away
except they just didn't stay that way
and from forbidden I travelled to suppression
but that didn't work very well either
so I travelled further on towards denial
However adept I become at self delusion
I am still left with the knowledge of you
and however this plays out over time to come
I cannot, will not and don't want to deny this
that you impacted on me so unexpectedly
that I am left here breathless in wonderment
Do you remember me saying some time ago
that I can write words that I just can't say
bound as I am by this all consuming fear
that you ignore and thus help me to discount too
I wonder sometimes if you're playing games
using my inexperience as if I were a novelty toy
If I said such things aloud I would be bereft
because there's no response that you could give
in light of my distrust you'd feel duty bound
to re-assure and thus I somehow betray you too
I wish that I could do as it seems that you can
take it as it is, freely given, freely taken, just free
Does this kind of thing happen for a reason
so many mysteries and so my utter confusion
focuses not on the consequences but on the why
moving beyond repercussions to see if there is more
or less in which case the fallout must be contained
except ... except there's this, how can I describe it
I think of you and it just makes me smile inside
I feel with you in a way my normal life doesn't allow
and yet I must acknowledge some consequences
in living my life with such separateness from others
I am uniquely ill equipped to deal with all this
unable to weigh it's significance in your world
So it is that we're back to the question of games
asking of myself the answer to this uncertainty
at a loss to explain this new duality of desire
when desire itself was hard won in the first place
sullied as it was by the ever present monster
who stalks me even through the barrier of death
But that needn't concern you except I know it does
for in telling you of how it was to be stalked
I risked conferring on you some responsibility
to treat me more gently, and here's the crux
what if it is only me that wants, that desires
and you just haven't the heart to tell me so.
Consequences
I know all about boundaries
truly I do
the lines between right and wrong
the rules that bleach our world
leaching the colour right out of it
I do know about boundaries
right and wrong are writ clear across my soul
I stepped over that line though
without hesitation
without a single second thought
in living so completely in the moment
I lost all sight of the consequences
there's a difference you know
between doing right and going with the flow
I remember something you said about this
that you don't regret it
but that you will if I do
that it was real even though it felt unreal
and still does even in my memory
it seems like a dream event
not something I could've been brave enough to do
Why am I thinking about all this now
many months down the track
I suppose I'm not good at smoothing over
at consigning memories to the archive
where they can sit undisturbed in the dust
I reach and take this one down
from it's high up shelf to look again at me
For this is a me that I don't recognise
who acts without thought
who always puts such store by promises made
and yet breaks one thought to be lifelong
it's like a puzzle and I've lost a piece
the part of me who'd have said no
and preserved the lines between dark and light
It's easier when things are simple I guess
but having done I can't undo
so somehow accommodation must be made
towards the me that breaks these rules
but if I do am I not condoning a repetition
making hidden deals within my soul
persuading myself that lines are just shades of grey
I am not brave, but I know right from wrong
and having done wrong
I can only preserve the illusion of the promise
protecting the status quo with ongoing faith
that even rule breakers can be redeemed
not by unburdening for that burden must be borne
but this new line between truth and not troubles me still
truly I do
the lines between right and wrong
the rules that bleach our world
leaching the colour right out of it
I do know about boundaries
right and wrong are writ clear across my soul
I stepped over that line though
without hesitation
without a single second thought
in living so completely in the moment
I lost all sight of the consequences
there's a difference you know
between doing right and going with the flow
I remember something you said about this
that you don't regret it
but that you will if I do
that it was real even though it felt unreal
and still does even in my memory
it seems like a dream event
not something I could've been brave enough to do
Why am I thinking about all this now
many months down the track
I suppose I'm not good at smoothing over
at consigning memories to the archive
where they can sit undisturbed in the dust
I reach and take this one down
from it's high up shelf to look again at me
For this is a me that I don't recognise
who acts without thought
who always puts such store by promises made
and yet breaks one thought to be lifelong
it's like a puzzle and I've lost a piece
the part of me who'd have said no
and preserved the lines between dark and light
It's easier when things are simple I guess
but having done I can't undo
so somehow accommodation must be made
towards the me that breaks these rules
but if I do am I not condoning a repetition
making hidden deals within my soul
persuading myself that lines are just shades of grey
I am not brave, but I know right from wrong
and having done wrong
I can only preserve the illusion of the promise
protecting the status quo with ongoing faith
that even rule breakers can be redeemed
not by unburdening for that burden must be borne
but this new line between truth and not troubles me still
Moments
In that moment there was a sudden silence
senses heightened I listened to your breaths
the change was so rapid and then nothing
seeing you slump and being caught and then held
I am reaching for the phone in the next moment
as you are lowered to the floor, laid out flat
I send out for help even as I make my way to you
I do not remember the words I said from that moment
but I've been told that I appeared totally calm
that I instilled calm determination to act
to do the right things in those next moments
to save what could be salvaged, to at least try
And then more moments as men in green arrive
surrounding you in a huge flurry of activity
as we stand on the side-lines watching, hoping
in the next moment I am thinking of your mother
I am waiting to see what I will have to tell her
I am preparing sad and happy words in my head
I am trying to find a combination that will work
that will give hope without false promise
funny, in all my anticipation of this moment
I somehow completely forgot to envisage this part
where we move beyond helping you to helping yours
and in the next moment I am on the phone again
Talking to a woman I've never met yet feel I know
going through the facts of those few moments
asking if I can come and take her to be with you
finding her on the map but unable to navigate
thankfully you have more friends in this moment
as I am taken to in turn take your mother in
Meeting someone with your eyes but clouded
quelling her worry in a babbling stream of talk
telling me in those next hours the story of you
in those moments I learn of you as a baby
as a boy, as a man, and as a son. I learn you
knowing now what you wouldn't want me to know
I know how you value your dignity and privacy
I've kept my distance not from dislike but respect
knowing your discomfort is disguised with banter
laughing with you, trying to find some ease
and over the years we have found that haven't we?
I wonder if we'll have the chance to laugh again
Your sister arrives and so I take my leave
being taken again to be with your friends
where I explain the events of those moments
the calm crumbles and I am myself once more
how thankful I am that we thought about that moment
that we planned and acted to give you a chance
I heard this morning that you know where you are
this tells me all I need to know for now
hope surges, the delicious prospect of more
of laughs and some time perhaps even friendship
and when I next see you ... what will I say?
that your friends were with you in that moment.
senses heightened I listened to your breaths
the change was so rapid and then nothing
seeing you slump and being caught and then held
I am reaching for the phone in the next moment
as you are lowered to the floor, laid out flat
I send out for help even as I make my way to you
I do not remember the words I said from that moment
but I've been told that I appeared totally calm
that I instilled calm determination to act
to do the right things in those next moments
to save what could be salvaged, to at least try
And then more moments as men in green arrive
surrounding you in a huge flurry of activity
as we stand on the side-lines watching, hoping
in the next moment I am thinking of your mother
I am waiting to see what I will have to tell her
I am preparing sad and happy words in my head
I am trying to find a combination that will work
that will give hope without false promise
funny, in all my anticipation of this moment
I somehow completely forgot to envisage this part
where we move beyond helping you to helping yours
and in the next moment I am on the phone again
Talking to a woman I've never met yet feel I know
going through the facts of those few moments
asking if I can come and take her to be with you
finding her on the map but unable to navigate
thankfully you have more friends in this moment
as I am taken to in turn take your mother in
Meeting someone with your eyes but clouded
quelling her worry in a babbling stream of talk
telling me in those next hours the story of you
in those moments I learn of you as a baby
as a boy, as a man, and as a son. I learn you
knowing now what you wouldn't want me to know
I know how you value your dignity and privacy
I've kept my distance not from dislike but respect
knowing your discomfort is disguised with banter
laughing with you, trying to find some ease
and over the years we have found that haven't we?
I wonder if we'll have the chance to laugh again
Your sister arrives and so I take my leave
being taken again to be with your friends
where I explain the events of those moments
the calm crumbles and I am myself once more
how thankful I am that we thought about that moment
that we planned and acted to give you a chance
I heard this morning that you know where you are
this tells me all I need to know for now
hope surges, the delicious prospect of more
of laughs and some time perhaps even friendship
and when I next see you ... what will I say?
that your friends were with you in that moment.
Farewell to a friend
You say that life changes you
shrugging with a ghost of a smile on your face
and so ends the chat as we begin talking
about the time when the seemingly invincible towers
of your mental strength tumbled into disarray
under the pressure of too many life events
leaving you feeling desolate and so lost
I struggle to understand your gratitude
until you explain that before, friend was a word
bandied about with abandon but without meaning
and that in your desolation came such aloneness
as some fell by the wayside or ran from the wreckage
dawning in you an awareness that friends don't abandon
but that the label is attached too readily at times
So it is that trust having been breached by many
must somehow be re-gained between those few left
and here your generosity of spirit shines through
as you willingly trust, talking of those difficult times
when what seemed like inadequate attempts to help
were valued despite any awkwardness or ineptitude
with hindsight you saw what we couldn't know
That having had your life rent apart completely
you could re-invent what it means to be you
I hesitate to tell you that I prefer the new version
the depth and openness that weren't there before
or rather were there but far below the surface
hidden beneath the ease of superficial chit chat
that no longer appeals and never did to me
It is on this journey that we became friends
leaving behind the trappings of social niceties
to talk of the harder things, the scary edges
that have us perilously close to tumbling down
ever steeper descents into the darkness of despair
of hearing voices not there, of seeing the invisible
and of not knowing how to speak of such things
Gradually though you do learn how to speak
and with it comes the relief of shared burdens
a knowledge that these can be temporary states
from which recovery is possible and even likely
that people change and not always for the worse
what seem right now like the whispers of insanity
might just be warning signs preceding the precipice
Friendship is funny sometimes though isn't it
found in the unlikeliest of places and times
enduring through the transition from old to new
only to be folded up like an old newspaper
and laid down on a park bench in the shade
to be glanced at only in passing by many
as you walk away onto a new path with new friends
shrugging with a ghost of a smile on your face
and so ends the chat as we begin talking
about the time when the seemingly invincible towers
of your mental strength tumbled into disarray
under the pressure of too many life events
leaving you feeling desolate and so lost
I struggle to understand your gratitude
until you explain that before, friend was a word
bandied about with abandon but without meaning
and that in your desolation came such aloneness
as some fell by the wayside or ran from the wreckage
dawning in you an awareness that friends don't abandon
but that the label is attached too readily at times
So it is that trust having been breached by many
must somehow be re-gained between those few left
and here your generosity of spirit shines through
as you willingly trust, talking of those difficult times
when what seemed like inadequate attempts to help
were valued despite any awkwardness or ineptitude
with hindsight you saw what we couldn't know
That having had your life rent apart completely
you could re-invent what it means to be you
I hesitate to tell you that I prefer the new version
the depth and openness that weren't there before
or rather were there but far below the surface
hidden beneath the ease of superficial chit chat
that no longer appeals and never did to me
It is on this journey that we became friends
leaving behind the trappings of social niceties
to talk of the harder things, the scary edges
that have us perilously close to tumbling down
ever steeper descents into the darkness of despair
of hearing voices not there, of seeing the invisible
and of not knowing how to speak of such things
Gradually though you do learn how to speak
and with it comes the relief of shared burdens
a knowledge that these can be temporary states
from which recovery is possible and even likely
that people change and not always for the worse
what seem right now like the whispers of insanity
might just be warning signs preceding the precipice
Friendship is funny sometimes though isn't it
found in the unlikeliest of places and times
enduring through the transition from old to new
only to be folded up like an old newspaper
and laid down on a park bench in the shade
to be glanced at only in passing by many
as you walk away onto a new path with new friends
My Butterfly Hunter
It's not really the season for butterfly hunting
but I can't say no to such a hopeful face
battered makeshift old net in one hand
large jam jar with perforated lid in the other
a huge confident grin spurs me into action
searching for my old scrappy shoes and hat
Three year olds don't do silence do they
and so a constant stream of chatter ensues
which secret passageway shall we take today
from the kitchen out back to the garden gate
or shall we split and meet by the greenhouse
these things are important in his small world
We decide on the westerly route for this trip
I am keen to instill some sense of direction
a knowledge of the compass points at least
having intrinsically almost no sense of my own
marking by landmarks the trail back home
pointing out the unusual to act as reminders
We skip along the path by newly bare fields
the harvest already in, leaving golden stubble
but along the edges still long tall grasses grow
and it is to the edge that we head net in hand
I am hoping for grasshoppers or maybe a cricket
some small compensation for my butterfly hunter
Can you concentrate like a young child can
his small body so still and yet also so poised
there is gracefulness in children in motion
but there is even more in a child ready to pounce
my small hunter is quiet as only he knows how
stage whispering his progress through the grass
No butterflies to be had or even to be seen
grasshoppers elusive though heard time and again
finally thirst drives us homewards empty-handed
when the chatter turns to where we come from
how does one explain the birds and the bees
to someone already so knowledgeable at three
I needn't have worried for the answer came from him
he comes from the sun, I apparently from the moon
his brother and sister from the clouds or maybe
from the sun like him, mummy and daddy from the sky
granny and gramps from the ocean definitely not the sea
and did I know what happens when we grow up?
Well I was intrigued to learn more as you can imagine
it seems we become grown-ups, then wolves, then tigers
and finally after we've lived in the jungle for many years
we get to go to live in the sky high up above the night
so we can see the sun and the moon at the same time
and that is how it is in the mind of my butterfly hunter.
but I can't say no to such a hopeful face
battered makeshift old net in one hand
large jam jar with perforated lid in the other
a huge confident grin spurs me into action
searching for my old scrappy shoes and hat
Three year olds don't do silence do they
and so a constant stream of chatter ensues
which secret passageway shall we take today
from the kitchen out back to the garden gate
or shall we split and meet by the greenhouse
these things are important in his small world
We decide on the westerly route for this trip
I am keen to instill some sense of direction
a knowledge of the compass points at least
having intrinsically almost no sense of my own
marking by landmarks the trail back home
pointing out the unusual to act as reminders
We skip along the path by newly bare fields
the harvest already in, leaving golden stubble
but along the edges still long tall grasses grow
and it is to the edge that we head net in hand
I am hoping for grasshoppers or maybe a cricket
some small compensation for my butterfly hunter
Can you concentrate like a young child can
his small body so still and yet also so poised
there is gracefulness in children in motion
but there is even more in a child ready to pounce
my small hunter is quiet as only he knows how
stage whispering his progress through the grass
No butterflies to be had or even to be seen
grasshoppers elusive though heard time and again
finally thirst drives us homewards empty-handed
when the chatter turns to where we come from
how does one explain the birds and the bees
to someone already so knowledgeable at three
I needn't have worried for the answer came from him
he comes from the sun, I apparently from the moon
his brother and sister from the clouds or maybe
from the sun like him, mummy and daddy from the sky
granny and gramps from the ocean definitely not the sea
and did I know what happens when we grow up?
Well I was intrigued to learn more as you can imagine
it seems we become grown-ups, then wolves, then tigers
and finally after we've lived in the jungle for many years
we get to go to live in the sky high up above the night
so we can see the sun and the moon at the same time
and that is how it is in the mind of my butterfly hunter.
Knowing
There is some peace in knowing a thing
even if the thing in question is not a good thing
or at least not inherently good or bad
for only our interpretation provides the label
time and perspective change even these
I'd thought there was little harm in my doing
harmless escapism from the reality of now
which over time slowly became a necessity
what was once escape became chain-like
entrancing me, links finally entrapping me
Links that gradually turn a person who knows
into one that has forgotten what knowing means
except you never forget some things do you
thinking is the mental equivalent of bike riding
a provider of rational insight even in trying times
But there is a potential trap even here
pride lurks ever present in the thinkers mind
persuading us that thoughts of such value
provide answers in themselves ... ah yes
but without actions thoughts are meaningless
So although there is some peace in knowing
there is also unease, a pause, a hesitation
where is the effect ... the follow through
what value is there in a thought agreed with
but not acted upon ... stasis is no answer
Fundamentally then this is a form of delay
a case of passive resistance masquerading
as thinking it through, or maybe buying time
to what? ... well, to dance just one more time
or two more times, perhaps even just three ....
Do you see how it goes, thinking like this
it is a part of the lunacy, part of the knowing
part of this strange sadness of letting it go
something that seemed at first to be a friend
but under clear skies shows it's uglier face
A friend no more then, a parting of the ways
acceptance beckons upon our acquiescence
as thought becomes resolve and in turn action
but when a friend has two faces it can be hard
to remember the harsher version of the two
And so it is that reminders must be written
this friend can be nice but only for a short while
the consequences of this friendship are dire
things that feel good are not always good for me
friends that are not friends are in fact enemies.
even if the thing in question is not a good thing
or at least not inherently good or bad
for only our interpretation provides the label
time and perspective change even these
I'd thought there was little harm in my doing
harmless escapism from the reality of now
which over time slowly became a necessity
what was once escape became chain-like
entrancing me, links finally entrapping me
Links that gradually turn a person who knows
into one that has forgotten what knowing means
except you never forget some things do you
thinking is the mental equivalent of bike riding
a provider of rational insight even in trying times
But there is a potential trap even here
pride lurks ever present in the thinkers mind
persuading us that thoughts of such value
provide answers in themselves ... ah yes
but without actions thoughts are meaningless
So although there is some peace in knowing
there is also unease, a pause, a hesitation
where is the effect ... the follow through
what value is there in a thought agreed with
but not acted upon ... stasis is no answer
Fundamentally then this is a form of delay
a case of passive resistance masquerading
as thinking it through, or maybe buying time
to what? ... well, to dance just one more time
or two more times, perhaps even just three ....
Do you see how it goes, thinking like this
it is a part of the lunacy, part of the knowing
part of this strange sadness of letting it go
something that seemed at first to be a friend
but under clear skies shows it's uglier face
A friend no more then, a parting of the ways
acceptance beckons upon our acquiescence
as thought becomes resolve and in turn action
but when a friend has two faces it can be hard
to remember the harsher version of the two
And so it is that reminders must be written
this friend can be nice but only for a short while
the consequences of this friendship are dire
things that feel good are not always good for me
friends that are not friends are in fact enemies.
Under open skies
I walked out onto the plains and stood under the open sky
looking over my shoulder at the fringes of the forest
sensing nothing of it’s sinister interior, it’s dark heart
appearances aren’t everything though are they?
take me for example, to meet me you’d never know
that I am a habitual forest dweller, uneasy on the plains
finding the light too harsh, making me feel exposed
reminding me how I long for the shade, the solitude
Reminding me in turn that the forest draws one in
that the paths all lead to it’s depths, spiralling, circling
taking us away from the people we want so much to be
convincing us somehow that darkness outshines light
without dulled senses this makes absolutely no sense
why then does our internal dialogue argue black is white
why is there such allure to losing any sense of ourselves
is it so hard to live happily under these open skies?
So I sit because standing leaves me vulnerable to walking
and walking right now would lead me back tree-wards
so I hold tight to my legs and then fold them under me
kneeling in an attitude of supplication for I need help
and it is only away from the forest that help can help
I am fortunate in having an intimate knowledge of this
even if knowing is not doing, not knowing is worse
for it’s true that without knowing we do without thinking.
Doing without thinking is the curse of the forest dweller
a habitual need to block out the light of clear thought
without thought for the hurt, pain and problems caused
the forest dweller wends his merry way, oblivious
to his beloved plains lovers, sisters, brothers, others
who don’t understand why anyone would want the dark
when living under open skies is so natural a life
a communion with nature, a communion with one another
Solitude beckons some who would rather not be seen
those doing shameful deceitful self-destructive things
the heart of the forest beckons those and others too
some running from pain, from pasts, from themselves
not all who dwell in the forest want a permanent home
visitors wander into the darkness and then stumble out again
having breathed in their fill of the fetid rotted interior
the attraction is not universal, not a panacea, just a lie
Knowing the nature of the lie should be a potent weapon
isn’t knowledge power, does it not feed the will?
does it depend on how damaged the will has become
can even a broken will be mended, made back whole
by continually bathing it with light and telling it truths
like that the forest is dark but the plains are light
like that living under it’s leaves destroys our very souls
and that kneeling out on the plains is better than that.
looking over my shoulder at the fringes of the forest
sensing nothing of it’s sinister interior, it’s dark heart
appearances aren’t everything though are they?
take me for example, to meet me you’d never know
that I am a habitual forest dweller, uneasy on the plains
finding the light too harsh, making me feel exposed
reminding me how I long for the shade, the solitude
Reminding me in turn that the forest draws one in
that the paths all lead to it’s depths, spiralling, circling
taking us away from the people we want so much to be
convincing us somehow that darkness outshines light
without dulled senses this makes absolutely no sense
why then does our internal dialogue argue black is white
why is there such allure to losing any sense of ourselves
is it so hard to live happily under these open skies?
So I sit because standing leaves me vulnerable to walking
and walking right now would lead me back tree-wards
so I hold tight to my legs and then fold them under me
kneeling in an attitude of supplication for I need help
and it is only away from the forest that help can help
I am fortunate in having an intimate knowledge of this
even if knowing is not doing, not knowing is worse
for it’s true that without knowing we do without thinking.
Doing without thinking is the curse of the forest dweller
a habitual need to block out the light of clear thought
without thought for the hurt, pain and problems caused
the forest dweller wends his merry way, oblivious
to his beloved plains lovers, sisters, brothers, others
who don’t understand why anyone would want the dark
when living under open skies is so natural a life
a communion with nature, a communion with one another
Solitude beckons some who would rather not be seen
those doing shameful deceitful self-destructive things
the heart of the forest beckons those and others too
some running from pain, from pasts, from themselves
not all who dwell in the forest want a permanent home
visitors wander into the darkness and then stumble out again
having breathed in their fill of the fetid rotted interior
the attraction is not universal, not a panacea, just a lie
Knowing the nature of the lie should be a potent weapon
isn’t knowledge power, does it not feed the will?
does it depend on how damaged the will has become
can even a broken will be mended, made back whole
by continually bathing it with light and telling it truths
like that the forest is dark but the plains are light
like that living under it’s leaves destroys our very souls
and that kneeling out on the plains is better than that.
A temporary state
Have you ever found yourself in a very dark place
I don't mean one outside the sphere of your influence
but one without the scant comfort of blamelessness
where what is happening is solely a consequence
of action or at least some inaction on your own part
Have you found yourself in such a place as this
where even the walls echo shouts of accusation
this is your own doing ... own doing ... own doing
and candlelight throws flickering shadows of doubt
upon the walls dripping slow tracks of aged tears
I wander among the stalagnites, the stalegtights
I can't remember the difference between these two
but the colours, the blues, the transulscent greens
the channels of deep despair written clear here
beneath the transience of my soft lingering touch
Some places touch you with a sense of such history
a knowledge of ancient damaged broken hearted souls
who wander aimlessly through these hallowed halls
of life's own creation, all those sacred memories
of a time before even the knowledge of time began
Gathering, piled like rustling leaves in a quiet corner
away from the blistering howling then whispering wind
useless is acknowledged knowledge of what should be done
against this self loathing, a raging fire burning bright
consuming will, demeaning any kind of resolution
This is what I mean when I say a very dark place
a desolate destination arrived at by my own hand
and so much the worse for that, for the blame, the shame
of knowing better but allowing this to get the better of me
of a dependance on an addiction unsolved as yet
I don't mean one outside the sphere of your influence
but one without the scant comfort of blamelessness
where what is happening is solely a consequence
of action or at least some inaction on your own part
Have you found yourself in such a place as this
where even the walls echo shouts of accusation
this is your own doing ... own doing ... own doing
and candlelight throws flickering shadows of doubt
upon the walls dripping slow tracks of aged tears
I wander among the stalagnites, the stalegtights
I can't remember the difference between these two
but the colours, the blues, the transulscent greens
the channels of deep despair written clear here
beneath the transience of my soft lingering touch
Some places touch you with a sense of such history
a knowledge of ancient damaged broken hearted souls
who wander aimlessly through these hallowed halls
of life's own creation, all those sacred memories
of a time before even the knowledge of time began
Gathering, piled like rustling leaves in a quiet corner
away from the blistering howling then whispering wind
useless is acknowledged knowledge of what should be done
against this self loathing, a raging fire burning bright
consuming will, demeaning any kind of resolution
This is what I mean when I say a very dark place
a desolate destination arrived at by my own hand
and so much the worse for that, for the blame, the shame
of knowing better but allowing this to get the better of me
of a dependance on an addiction unsolved as yet
Smoke and Mirrors
After all it's just smoke and mirrors
scattered thoughts shattered hopes
lost in the tangled twisted branches
found only in the depths of the forest
far from your eyes, from the open skies
almost out of sight of even my own seeing
Why do I wander off the path at all
knowing as I do the danger, the allure
the drawing in to the heart of the forest
where the dappled light has a dark tinge
and the path tapers off to nothingness
leaving me no sense of direction or time
And time is passing in ways not usual
dulled as the canopy hides the setting sun
or the rising moon for I can see neither
as I circle about in the deepening gloom
turning glass into bottle and then into two
with determination to obliterate thought
To run from an awareness of one's self
is a form of madness that takes practice
which is one thing I've had plenty of
arrogant pride in my ability to hide
and indulge again in this wasteful place
back amongst the deceptive lies of my heart
The branches here offer such strange comfort
a seeming embrace, a yielding roughness
a familiar feel of silent recrimination
a smell of rot that reminds me of myself
and returns me to some semblance of sense
seeing clearly despite the inky blackness
That the heart of the forest is heartless
a deep well in which to sink our own despair
thinking that we're leaving ourselves behind
only to catch sight of our own reflection
it seems smoke and mirrors only do so much
fleeing into this heart takes it's own toll
A gloom can seem even darker than it is
the entanglement of branches binding us
and yet this illusion is just more smoke
even reflections can be deceptive at best
this person in the mirror is the lost one
dark eyes speaking wetly into the silence
I have been a forest dweller for too long
wasted many days wandering in the depths
taking myself away from the person that I am
or could be if only I stay under open skies
not hidden away but seeing and being seen
sunrise comes to steal this darkness away
scattered thoughts shattered hopes
lost in the tangled twisted branches
found only in the depths of the forest
far from your eyes, from the open skies
almost out of sight of even my own seeing
Why do I wander off the path at all
knowing as I do the danger, the allure
the drawing in to the heart of the forest
where the dappled light has a dark tinge
and the path tapers off to nothingness
leaving me no sense of direction or time
And time is passing in ways not usual
dulled as the canopy hides the setting sun
or the rising moon for I can see neither
as I circle about in the deepening gloom
turning glass into bottle and then into two
with determination to obliterate thought
To run from an awareness of one's self
is a form of madness that takes practice
which is one thing I've had plenty of
arrogant pride in my ability to hide
and indulge again in this wasteful place
back amongst the deceptive lies of my heart
The branches here offer such strange comfort
a seeming embrace, a yielding roughness
a familiar feel of silent recrimination
a smell of rot that reminds me of myself
and returns me to some semblance of sense
seeing clearly despite the inky blackness
That the heart of the forest is heartless
a deep well in which to sink our own despair
thinking that we're leaving ourselves behind
only to catch sight of our own reflection
it seems smoke and mirrors only do so much
fleeing into this heart takes it's own toll
A gloom can seem even darker than it is
the entanglement of branches binding us
and yet this illusion is just more smoke
even reflections can be deceptive at best
this person in the mirror is the lost one
dark eyes speaking wetly into the silence
I have been a forest dweller for too long
wasted many days wandering in the depths
taking myself away from the person that I am
or could be if only I stay under open skies
not hidden away but seeing and being seen
sunrise comes to steal this darkness away
Prayer
How does one find any kind of faith in the hour
of someone else's urgent deepest need
of what benefit are my faithless prayers
said in yearning hope rather than conviction
Is it the futility of hope against the inevitability of fate
or does earnest prayer tip the balance in any way
anyway, I have been re-learning the art of prayer
not hard you might think, after all it's just words
But prayer for me is essentially an act of faith
and faith is something I find I have in short supply
but in the absense of concrete ways to offer help
I resort to applying myself to this simple task
Ambivalent if only because of the deep injustice
of seeing one person bearing the burden of many
of seeing misfortune piling higher each day
eroding hope, despite heroic laughter after tears
Aware once more that lifetimes are so short
when measured against the yardstick of infinity
that my perception of injustice and unfairness
is also my ignorance in the face of omniscience
And so it is that faith flickers on in my soul
enabling entreaty, conferring grace and hope
asking only that the unendurable be lifted
that strength be given to bear what can't be borne
Healing, can I ask this if it's on behalf of another
if I only get one wish it would have to be this
if you can create does it mean you can re-create
actually I don't really mean can you, but will you
Will it be too much to ask that you are where I cannot be
holding her hand and the hands of those she loves
if I cannot be there to share in the fire walk
will you hold them up, provide courage in the flames
Safely guiding them through the darkest of times
binding them tightly to you and to each other
the faint flicker of faith is still alight here in me
so I hold her in my heart as I say another prayer
I could rail against a God who lets this happen
curse him or her all the way to hell and back
... and I have, far too many times to mention
but when I ask on anothers behalf it's different
I made a promise that I would pray every day, so I do
faithfully praying for more faith to pray for miracles
faithfully praying that miracles happen for these few
wishing it with all my might, with all my heart
Renee I love you too. xx Jos
of someone else's urgent deepest need
of what benefit are my faithless prayers
said in yearning hope rather than conviction
Is it the futility of hope against the inevitability of fate
or does earnest prayer tip the balance in any way
anyway, I have been re-learning the art of prayer
not hard you might think, after all it's just words
But prayer for me is essentially an act of faith
and faith is something I find I have in short supply
but in the absense of concrete ways to offer help
I resort to applying myself to this simple task
Ambivalent if only because of the deep injustice
of seeing one person bearing the burden of many
of seeing misfortune piling higher each day
eroding hope, despite heroic laughter after tears
Aware once more that lifetimes are so short
when measured against the yardstick of infinity
that my perception of injustice and unfairness
is also my ignorance in the face of omniscience
And so it is that faith flickers on in my soul
enabling entreaty, conferring grace and hope
asking only that the unendurable be lifted
that strength be given to bear what can't be borne
Healing, can I ask this if it's on behalf of another
if I only get one wish it would have to be this
if you can create does it mean you can re-create
actually I don't really mean can you, but will you
Will it be too much to ask that you are where I cannot be
holding her hand and the hands of those she loves
if I cannot be there to share in the fire walk
will you hold them up, provide courage in the flames
Safely guiding them through the darkest of times
binding them tightly to you and to each other
the faint flicker of faith is still alight here in me
so I hold her in my heart as I say another prayer
I could rail against a God who lets this happen
curse him or her all the way to hell and back
... and I have, far too many times to mention
but when I ask on anothers behalf it's different
I made a promise that I would pray every day, so I do
faithfully praying for more faith to pray for miracles
faithfully praying that miracles happen for these few
wishing it with all my might, with all my heart
Renee I love you too. xx Jos
Hope against hope
Sometimes I can't think what to say, what will help
even knowing the way it is when you're stuck there
under the dark clouds, feeling the lethargy, apathy
the hammering of self judgement knocking loudly
telling you repeatedly that you're useless worthless
and any small effort you make will never be enough
If I tell you positive things you might just raise a smile
but fundamentally the change comes from within
so anything I say can only ever have little effect
except to let you know that despite how this feels
despite the deep aloneness that comes with these clouds
you are not alone, I am with you, right beside you
And the reason you can't see me is no reason at all
I am here and you are there but I am also there
in that I have sat or lain under the same dark skies
feeling the hollowness that comes with the wind
numbing my mind, turning me inwards onto myself
blocking my view of the outer world altogether
Oh god and the tiredness, the bone aching exhaustion
of dragging yourself through the bare minimum tasks
of washing dressing eating walking talking ... doing
wading through the treacle of everyday existence
waiting for the chance to climb in under the duvet
hiding in slumber from the wastelands of my life
There will always be that temptation won't there
to take up again the medication that alters temporarily
these bottles with no prescription label, liquid oblivion
taking you away to a place removed from reality
rocking you gently in it's seemingly safe embrace
come the morning the mirror tells it's own tale
Come the morning comes also the terrible knowledge
of an addiction fed once more, the clouds descend
ever closer enveloping, swirling within our nausea
as the self loathing rears up to engulf us once more
the descent seems almost inevitable from this point
is there any spark of hope in this dark soulless place
And so it is that I come to write to you now my friend
to talk once again of the nature of hope against hope
the wisdom I share is not my own, although I own it now
but passed to me in a time of my own deep need
in the safe knowledge that although it might take time
I would should the opportunity arise return the favour
Perhaps hope seems elusive because it is too close to see
is it possible do you think that the answer lies within
if you consider even the remotest chance that I'm right
you might well stumble across a crumb barely recognised
for this crumb born of my distraction is a tiny kernel
from which I'm sure hope might be nurtured to grow
How is it that I know or suspect the answer lies within
do you not remember the day not so very long ago
when you told me that these things pass, always do
three words then two that I took inside and grew
from five words to this, my inadequate gift back to you
in the hope that you will at least find some comfort here
We talked some time ago about a sunny green hillside
a quiet place just beyond the outer edge of the storms
found by plodding face towards the gale force winds
finding strength on strengthless days for just one step
the next day two, my friend these things do pass
steps that might seem aimless lead somewhere else
Somewhere else doesn't sound all that safe does it
ah, but I can't promise a safe haven or sunny hillsides
but I can wish, I can hope, I can wait there for you
if I walk towards you how close will I have to be
before you see me, before you feel a spark of hope
shall we see, can you see me yet ... how about now?
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