Sunday, 16 November 2014

I am not made for this. I am borne of hot red earth and relentless heat -  the kind of sun that bakes the bones until they burst into wild dancing love. 

Monday, 10 November 2014

Something shining inside,
Unknown light
A soft ember
Not quite a spark,
not yet.
My surrrendered soul stares with quiet hope,
Will it be... something?
Days given over to the same actions - dishes in dishes out, bath, bed cleaning.. escape to screen-ing.
Dare not believe that this small tender thing might become
Or will it get trampled by neglect,
or the brash re-entry that arrives saying
and lays to waste all other plans.
i never pick them up - my broken dreams.
They just lie around: reminders not to dare,
Not to hope.
It will come to nothing, you know.

Tuesday, 4 November 2014

I hope, we will be old one day too and remember our childhood play, fingers just having managed to stay touching in the wind-wild ocean of life.

Monday, 3 November 2014

North of here there is nothing but air.
Straight out along the road -fifty miles before you even need to think or stop.
There, you can breathe.
...and bend
to touch the dry earth - finger tips sifting the desert sand .
You can lie flat and let the earth take your body in its arms and hold everything that is too much for you to hold on your own.
That is the place to be.
Quiet now, I'll take you there in my heart.
Let the minibar buzz become cicadas and the traffic be the long dusty highway.
Breathe, close your eyes, breathe.

Sunday, 2 November 2014

The Fan.

We laughed
at the cutout figures
the lyrics quoted clumsy like a secret code.
Pity drawn from our hearts as we sat in our cosy nest, the storm passed.
You hanging on, howling at our windows - a sad angry dervish of wanting.
Irritation at your persistance came and went in rhythm with amusement.
Sad little girl - go home.
Go and find your own songs to sing.
Go and make your own meaning.
Nothing here was any more than borrowed dreams.

Saturday, 1 November 2014

I don't like talking - so much gets lost in ordinary words. They flow, unstoppable, from my mouth, forgetting their meaning as they go. But you I like and I would like to know. Would like to sit near you and let wisdom flow from your heart to mine and back again. Even dancing seems sometimes so obvious and loud. I'd like to sit just quietly in the shadows and allow the subtle changes of our energy to affect our souls and wisdom to grow there in the quiet cracks between our knowing.
Throwing the year away:

Her, I wrap a cord around and tightly tie her photograph, banish her into the flames to become grey ashen dust.
With grief acknowledge what she stole, my trust, my innocent heart so duty bound, so faithfully keeping our home.