Life after Life

After a while, it will come
and then, belatedly,
you will begin to recognise
who you are, dressed in these
clothes you used to wear, when days

were more familiar. Then. Before.
You'll begin to like the stranger in yourself.
Give hope. Give breath. Give your heart
some peace, for those you loved,

that were your life,
whom you adored and still do.
Polish the picture frames and now empty shelves,

rearrange the books, lay the letters to rest,
peel yourself away from then.
Look. You are alive.

Those Pussycats

For Ruth and her entourage of pussycats

Those playful pussycats -
with their twirling tails and whirling waves of energy
as they dash, decisively, or dart determinedly
from here to there: it seems they've no sense of where!

Their swirling manes flash between hedgerows and chair legs,
from floor to lap in four seconds flat.
Their tumbling gaiety - those funny pussycats.

Their breathtaking leaps of faith
at breaking heights give us a fright
as they stack
with outstretched arms and arched backs.

But there's no stopping these furry bullets
as they burst forth from bundles
of neatly piled clean clothes
or from the depths of the undergrowth.
Firing from room to room - those adrenaline fuelled pussycats.

Then dreamily they gaze upwards - heavenly -
into your astonished gaze, amazed.
Their beaming, hopeful green eyes caress your heart;
knowingly they anticipate, await,
the touch of God.
Longingly they look on you.
An invisible cupids arrow pings - those adorable pussycats.

Vulnerable

Turn away.
Say it's not your fault.
Blame.
Shout.
You deny any responsibility.

I can see your vulnerability.

Close the door.
Shut me out.
Refuse.
Reflect.
You won't even hear me out.

I can see you're vulnerable.

Run away.
Curl into a ball.
Shut down.
Shut out.
You block me out.

Vulnerable.

Mirror, mirror, on the wall.
Is there anyone out there who is seeing me fall?
Is there anyone out there who hears my silent call?

I'm vulnerable.

A Precious Life

A miniature person - a version
of you - settles, waiting, with you - mummy.

Soft sounds buffer against the safe shell
and a gentle lolling of amniotic waves
lulls your baby to sleep.

At times you find you weep.
Why wouldn't you?
A high-tech vessel, beyond monetary value,
carrying, like a priceless carriage, a gift of celestial value.
You are wonderful - mummy.

Cherishing these final days,
thinking of the wonderful ways
you'll spend each moment together.
Building memories to remember, forever.

Like a genie, we make a wish:
that all is well for you and your precious life.

For Steph and Dave

My Friend

You're there.

              I'm here.

You're shining brightly -

                                             permeating my vision;

                                                                                  I like it.

                                             A breeze lifts your hair -

                                                                                  I laugh.

You laugh.

                                             We smile and we raise a glass - ching!

 

                                                                                  I echo an idea you had,

you remind me why I loved it - travel.

                                             An inspiration to me.

                                                                                        

                                 I help you consider:

                                             inquiries, issues, ideas...

                                             Like a wave knocking against your boat.

But there are no clouds in your sky -

                                             the seas calm.

                                             We smile and drop the sails.

 

You're always there.

                                                                                  I'm always here.

You flood me with memories

                                                                                  and I float on the surface;

                                             we lie on our backs on our ocean.

                                                       I had forgotten, but do not forget.

Like drops of rain, 

they

come

back

to

me.

You're creating waves

                                              and they crash around us.

                                              We like this for a while.

 

Then, you're still and you gaze upwards.

                                   I gaze upwards while

                                               we enjoy this silence

                                               under a serene sky

                                               looking out to the universe

                                               from where we are now.

 

                                               You're there. I'm here.



Promise

I can't promise the world.

In fact,

I can't promise much.

 

I wonder what truths we can find in life,

in a place littered with heart ache

and plagued by greed and suffering.

 

I can promise thoughts, questions, ideas -

interest, engagement, enthusiasm;

a frustrating, strong, adventurous friend.

 

In me you'll find a place to reflect,

release,

re-energise.



Sunrise Station

Avoiding the shadows, the haunters of night,
and gravitating towards the light,
I am saved.

A rumbling tsunami of energy
rattles, creaks, rolls to a halt
at the opposite platform.

Moving vestibules to a journey's end;
life lived, momentarily, in a tubular world.

For a moment
the caw of the birds remind you:
'Enjoy this trice,
the fresh air,
this place in time.
Waiting.'

An endless stopover
ends too soon.

Rattling, creaking and rolling
it comes to a halt
at this platform.

A sudden rush. Panic.
Hearts beating fast.

You walk towards the shadows
to live in a tubular world, for a while.