Tag Archives: love
castles
as she is lowered
into
the swaying
undulating heat
of the underground cavern
she breathes deeply
the smell of hot metal
and foot soldiers,
and asks
is this
my home?
she asks
is this my home?
where is my home?
does it matter
at all?
is home some
abstract feeling
of childhood safety nets
that dissipate into
nothing, with age?
we lose our homes
and gain
weathered lines,
crow’s feet at the eyes?
she stands by
the quiet beggar
with his whispered
pleas for help
and change
perhaps
he knows where home
could be.
perhaps one so
much more lost than her,
could share the secret.
she cries
out in the night
for that great thing.
home is nowhere
for anyone
she realises,
a thought of comfort.
home is inside
their hearts,
not their things or their castles.
she knows this,
she knows this.
and so her mother says
best
get to work
on your little heart,
my girl.
magic
how can you
ever repay
goddesses
who gave you life?
a debt so enormous
unending
and true
yet never once
expected.
woman bore you,
in her body
laughed in the face
of the foul
modern expectation of her life
her work
never finished,
as you grew and squalled.
she bore a life,
and watched it
destroyed by
things she
could never control.
with her own pain
a searing
knife in the heart,
yours, a thousand
needles in her eyes.
yet
she carried you.
she is not made of magic
she is a foundation
on which you built your
independence,
expected by all as
a cornerstone of life
life tells us
she is not made of magic
but look
deeply into her loving eyes,
and it is what you will see
plainer than cotton
clearer than summer sky.
her magic imbues
us all.
jennifer
she is clear
as a pealing bell
ringing resolutely
across countrysides
and through brick buildings
jennifer
she is painted
with golden freckles
blue ocean rays of light
ebb and tide in her eyes
the English rose
blinks Mediterranean waters
jennifer
her heart brings me
morning joy
she is
pancakes for breakfast
on a Wednesday
just because
jennifer
was my favourite name
as a child
on birthdays I’d wish to meet her
I’d dream
of who she could be
jennifer
I hope to hear
her birdsong laugh
again
and again
and again
devotion
what do I remember?
not the nights I stayed in alone, for fear of encountering something worse outside.
not the nights I spent talking to empty, strange men online at four in the morning.
not the nights spent asking google the same panicked questions over and over again til my eyes blurred and the sun came up.
pain has a way of getting away from you. this is the brain protecting you, you see. childbirth hurts, a fucking LOT, but women do it all the time, repeatedly. no pain, no gain. was there e’er a truer cliché? no, probably not.
for all the nights of my life I’ve spent saddened, alone, anxious, defeated (and there’s been enough); recalling the pain now is dull and old, even only days later. but the nights I’ve spent screaming with laughter, forging friendships, exploring things I love, making even the tiniest of bonds with people sat next to me on creaky old couches? those nights are clear as pealing bells in my head, whether years or days or decades have passed. joy remains. always.
life is a pointless piece of shit, but that’s no reason to waste it. that’s no reason to cage myself in a four-walled prison of my own making. I stay awake late anyway; if I’m going to be tired, I might as well be fucking entertained.
I’m not a disease, I’m not a disorder, I’m not a diagnosis. sometimes things will be bad, because the brain gets tired, the brain goes wrong. but it always gets better. it ALWAYS gets better.
the inner monologue, the one that tells me I am too fat, too ugly, too stupid, too unstable, too broken. that voice is the disease. me; beautiful, strong, smart, singular. I am not those thoughts. I dare now to answer them with petulance rather than acceptance. I dare to tell myself that I’m wonderful; to offer myself the same love and devotion that I wish so often would come to me.
we must love ourselves. we must not neglect ourselves. we must take care of ourselves. one of the most wonderful aspects of humanity is sharing, communicating, bonding. but I alone inhabit this particular sack of mobile meat and bones, as you do yours. we are truly alone. if we cannot even fall back on our love of ourselves when everything around us turns to shit and the world lets us down, then where can we fall?
don’t fall into nothingness. embrace yourself and treat yourself with the kindness you readily offer to your lovers, your friends, your pets. you deserve it.
dew
I’m not there yet, but I will be soon.
my heart overflows with grace and gratefulness.
I suffer, surely.
but this humbles me
with a reward of
pure, composed contentment.
how could I
enjoy the dawn
so auroral,
argent and glittering with dew,
if never to live
in the mirthless night,
the sepulchral darkness?
if never to lift up my arms
in the unoiled sister-shackles
of pain, and furious fear?
the dawn comes,
and with it
the heavenliest sigh;
“freedom.”
vitiligo
beautiful boy
you are gone
but I will not
let you die.
the sickness of death
so heavy
the black rain winds
that so many others have written
would be easy
to concentrate on.
my friend,
you were not sickness
but for a tarnished
group of moments.
the pain of your absence,
leaves us open-surgery hearts.
but the steadfastness
of your soul
pumps scarlet blood
to each fingertip.
still you sit
underneath my window,
your breathing turned to droplets
laughing so hard
the cigarettes fell out
of our mouths.
still we dance
for hours and hours
to average white-boy beats
(I always knew you could make better).
you could never
vanish from existence.
how implausible
to imagine.
as if
your vitiligo arms
could cease to be
in the world.
no, they are here.
just as the rest of you is here.
beautiful boy,
I will not let you be gone.
because the world is too small
without you.
the vigor of life
so light
does not matter.
you have only slipped away
into the next room.
and so it will continue to be
until I see you again.
happy 25th birthday finn
(I used a line from the Henry Scott Holland poem “death is nothing at all” that bears some relevance here. points if you can find it)
star
a burning
hot
cluster
of atoms
falls
directly
in front
of you
blinding you
with
incandescent
white
starlight
do you
reach out
to silver
your fingers
or burn
their flesh
do you
open your
delicate mouth
to receive
perfect
fiery
light
we
obsess
reaching out to
the sky
but when
the sky
comes to us
we shiver
hot-cold
scalded
by something
too pure
too powerful
for mere
skin
stone
stone girl,
you look in the mirror
who do you see there?
do you see
the cracks
in your
nature
do you see
how you filled
them up
with technicolour?
stone girl,
you feel the storm
weathering your heart
I wonder
if you know
how implausibly strong
your barriers are
I wonder
if you feel
your rejections
of splintered wood
stone girl,
you brace the curse
of a compromise
the others
made of clay
could never know
your power
the others
so delicate
when mixed with water
glazed over
stone girl,
you were thrown
into the fire
stone girl,
you came out
at one thousand degrees
stone girl,
if only you could know
what you have defeated
teeth
two rows
sweet, straight, together
they belong to your mouth alone
no words
are available in language
to describe such utter loveliness
visible only
after exchanged words
and sharp intakes of breath
a small price
for lifetimes of pain
the gift that only we could know about
gone quickly
fleeting like rain
but sealed in memory
languageless, kept forever.