May
Our Last Song
You know my pain with more intimacy than your own
You have tended my wounds and dried my tears
For so long you heard my voice and I yours,
But I knew you before you uttered a word
It was your silence I grew to depend on.
Words could never, and will never articulate
the meaning I found in the softness of your eyes.
You are like a painting, deep and calm
Your colour and light speaks to me
In a private tongue of emotion.
You hide me from the shadows creeping into my world,
Protect me from the dark and
In the silence that suffocates and strips my mind
Your words echo in the night and lead me back.
I will not forget the beauty that lies in your touch, your smile, your voice
You are the one I have sung for,
Our love was quiet but strong
It binds us with a melody that was not to be.
July
My Sea
I feel like the sea, I feel like it looks
Angry and wild, soft and enticing.
If the sea was a person I think it would understand me.
It would see the shades of me, of my world
And know that in seconds my mind might change from
Serenity to insanity,
Would see in my eyes that change, and respect it.
This sea,
This rough dangerous ocean before me
Reflects my soul like a mirror.
It is that voice, talking to me telling me to run,
Telling me that it is ok to fall, to break.
The swells and waves seem like cries reaching out to me,
I am invited to join this sea’s riot,
To give myself to nature and let her decide my fate
My sea is tortured, in pain
It is pulled and pushed in too many ways.
People think the sea has a mind of its own
That it is so wild it can never be tamed
But they are wrong.
It is not so wild that it does as it pleases;
It is ordered and obedient, whipped and controlled
With just the slightest of resistance.
I feel like the sea. I feel like it looks.
La Runs
Lost in the south of France waiting to be found.
I am surrounded by foreignness but feel at home in myself.
Found in myself.
My eyes are surrounded by beauty and grace
My mind floats in the water of the sky,
Through archways of cloud, bridges of cotton over a sea of ferns.
I have lost my breath, taken by the view.
I must fight for its return before the moment ends
To breath in this scene and fill myself with its glory
Isabel
What are you thinking Isabel?
Sitting so still, as small as you can,
Your back dead straight.
What are you watching Isabel?
Starring into nothing
Openness that both scares and invites you.
Why are you smiling Isabel?
What makes you happy?
What did he say to calm your fear?
The fear that hides deep in your eyes,
Your don’t tell, you don't speak,
you just stay still. Play dead.
you just stay still. Play dead.
Hoping to be missed, hiding in plain sight.
September
Angel
I saw an angel last night
She found me in the rain.
I was so many things, so many people
She saw them all and took hold my hand
An angel wrapped me in comfort last night
She protected me from the rain.
I told her my secrets and she listened to my heart
She heard every word and took hold my hand
I asked an angel for help last night
She brought me in from the rain.
My journey was hard, I had lost my way
She showed me where to go and took hold my hand
An angel dried my tears last night
She held me in the rain.
I was alone and scared, too tired to go on
She allowed me to cry and kept hold my hand
An Angel taught me a lesson last night
And finally there was no rain.
I learnt to love, and smile, and live
She taught me how to be and let go my hand.
October
A new London
New friends
New life
New me
Everything has changed but that's ok.
My heart is excited/nervous,
My mind trembles, overwhelmed by the smell of change
The sound of the future.
There is a blue I've never seen before.
A leaf I don’t recognise.
Beautiful brick buildings lead my eye through tree lined avenues
That I don't know where lead.
That I don't know where lead.
A new London is growing around me.
New city, new friends.
A London of classic cars, sing songs and chatter.
New cafes and bus stops, destinations and journeys.
Just listen and you will hear the first step
A brand new creation, concept, idea.
Fairies
Millions of lights
No edges, no lines
Safety in the darkness, a seaman’s guide.
Mythical gods and warriors,
Mystical and wondrous
Floating in the sky, no roots, no structure.
A wish, a secret
A beautiful painting forever changing,
Always, almost, within your reach.
Fairies protect us
They watch us while we sleep
They guide us when we’re blind
Trust them with your eyes.
One brick
How many bricks to build a house?
How many shards in a pane of glass?
How many flowers do a garden grow, blades in a lawn?
Millions of drops in the oceans,
Millions of grains on the beach.
How many does it take to form a crowd?
And a mob? And a group?
How many pages in a book and books in the library?
Too many to count? Too many to care?
How many left if I take one away?
Just one goes missing,
One page, one book, one grain, one blade.
How many left when one is gone?
Do we forget?
Do we even notice?
Does someone keep track and care about each tiny part?
Take a brick form the top of the wall
It is missed by three, replaced by another.
Take that brick from the bottom
– does it matter now?
– does it matter now?
Fill me with sound
Fill my head with music
Flood my thoughts and drown that voice
Put out the fire that trickles down my face
Staining my cheeks in black and red.
There is too much fog to see the light
But if I turn it up I can hear the beauty and hope for peace.
Make it so loud that I can hear nothing else,
Can’t think, can’t feel, can’t imagine anything but the notes:
Black and white
Up and down.
Arranged and ordered and
Perfect in this moment
They stay with me when all else is gone.
The music takes over me and corrupts my blood
Diluting the pain with rest.
Sleep is a lie, I can never trust it
But I listen, and I am refreshed.
I close my souls eyes and take comfort
in the shadow cast by this sound
December
I’m...
Cleansed
Empty
Finally clean
Sore
Delicate
Bruised inside
Redone
Revived
Resigned to the now
Wasted
Abused
Invisible to you
Angry
Wild
Crazy strong
Dizzy
Wobbly
Too tired for words
Small
Sidelined
Allowed to go on
Questions?
What is this thing beauty you speak of?
Perfection – is this beautiful?
If I were fixed, like new,
Would you love me then?
Just one careful owner:
Would your feelings change?
What are you waiting for?
Or is it me that’s waiting?
Are we there yet or is there still more to come?
Is there just one truth?
One love, one beauty?
It there anymore?
Is this it?
The colour of a smile
Silver stars shining on golden curtains
Red wine and a white cigarette.
The tall yellow flame of an orange candle
Flickering and dancing to the compact disk.
A bamboo balcony looking onto the black night sky
But what colour can describe the colour of my heart?
A rainbow beats inside my chest
So hard, strong, warm.
My soul is illuminated, my senses woken
I pray for the gift of light and find myself blinded.
Overwhelmed by the kindness of a stranger
Enriched by the love of a friend.
You smile at me and give me joy:
Orange tree
You are the orange tree growing from the concrete,
Nature surrounded by cement,
You grow tall and thin but the fruit you bear is pure and full.
Where do you come from?
How is your beauty born?
Are you roots as deep as your leaves are green?
You stand alone, ignored
Supporting yourself with your frail, bent leg
People look through you. See no significance.
Except, I see you orange tree,
I see you and I am pleased.
I hope to grow with your quiet dignity.
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