Sunday, 20 October 2013

To a man 232 kms away

Sometimes sadness creeps in
not with tiny bites of gluten bombs
but in memories held within samosas heady flavours
or the crisp smell of fallen leaves
or the deep brown depths of a strangers eyes
Moments gathered day by day
And stored in satin pouches in our hearts
 
We forget
 
We walk forward into altered days
Revel in new moments
embrace fresh touches
welcome healthier breathes on tender necks
 
 we forget how intertwined we still are
Each brush with another connecting us
in a vast and beautiful spider web of humanity
 
And this is how is should be
 
Even devastated
insecure
and afraid
I who have been these things
and you who have as well
 
Love as a word seems trite
but as truth
is everything

Saturday, 28 September 2013

 
I kissed him
Underneath the overgrown branches
with thistles brushing our knees
 
Broke bread with her on a
table covered in years of pine cones
and rain
 
This place I wish to make a home
for what is home but a place
to love the ones we love
 
Restoration
A heady mix of emotions
Excitement and trepidation
rebuilding
building new
sweeping cobwebs out of corners
 
Wishing to do it together
gathered and laughing
so it is not just my home
but walls stuffed with the
straw and love of many
 
I kissed him.
Dead flies strewn about the floor at our feet
Or did he kiss me?
 
 


Monday, 26 August 2013

236/365

 
I didn't know
For sale signs on front lawns
could suck the breath from ones bones
 
I thought
I had done my letting go
in small increments of
grey strokes of paint
and cardboard boxes packed with
"clutter"
 
If home is where the heart is
What do you do
when you've poured your heart into a home?
And then its time to go
 
How do you gather the places
 where your boys drilled holes
into hardwood floors
took first steps
plugged toilets with pretend cars
 
Is it possible
to neatly box it all up?
firsts
and lasts
angry dents made from thrown chairs
the hurts and hurtmaking
the loves and lovemaking
 
I didn't know what I didn't know.
 


Friday, 23 August 2013

Tuesday, 20 August 2013

Magpie Grief

He stood in the middle of the road in front of me
The broken body of his love
in a pile of black and white feathers
on the gravel side
As bold as a magpie always is,
Letting me choose if he should live or die
in his corvid grief
 
I was struck once again
at the many faces of grief
 
The big man that stood in my office
filling the space behind his dark sunglasses with tears
the quivering hairs on his mustache betraying him
 
The mother with birdlike bones
that I hugged too hard, forgetting how raw a body feels
with a soul stripped bare
 
The deep vat of silence that we dip into
Jars of ashes left in cupboards
Cold bodies left stiff in morgues,
as if to pretend that death can somehow be controlled
 
And so I aimed my wheels to pass over him
Spoke to him in the space of my car as if he could hear me
that it was not my place to choose for him
between life or death
and over I went
 
After the wind had stopped ruffling his iridescent feathers
and I was able to catch my breath once more
Away he flew
 


Wednesday, 14 August 2013

223/365

 
And there will come a time, you'll see, with no more tears. 
And love will not break your heart, but dismiss your fears. 
 Get over your hill and see what you find there,
With grace in your heart and flowers in your hair.
-Mumford & Sons