It’s Dark …

It is dark,

But, don’t miss the point,

Getting lighter by the day.

And don’t forget that,

If we be but brave enough,

We can raise a chorus,

Sing like honey-full bees

On glorious, bright sun days:

Amber and brown;

Rhythms of space,

Textures of time:

Volume without menace,

Power sans anger.

 

Away? Too Long?

Winter sun:

Remote and angry red,

Boiling its furious route

Through cochineal curdled clouds

Towards the crumbling coping

Of a wall I built

To keep the world at bay.

Didn’t work;

I’m still stumbling along paths

Scratched by anonymous others

Across ghost maps of

Another place I’ll never belong.

Tides and Pebbles.

Double-moon insanity,

Diamond-double intensity:

The reflection and the shadow.

He’s working hard on something,

Feeling the constantly rising

Steam-stream pressure –

Any one can see –

But nobody understands, so

We find it hard

To follow,

To get excited,

To join in.

 

A hundred and forty makes

Our noses, our ears bleed;

Frustration is free,

So who-are-you free.

We write letters that

Will never be sent,

Drink each other’s tears.

Silver tape and fireworks

Hold us together,

Push us onto the beach:

Love, love and anger

And the tides and pebbles

Of unconditional reconciliation.

29th June, 2012