I said to him last night,
“take my car to work….come back in the morning and rest with me?”.
He looked at me…..
“OK” he said, with a seduction at the corners of his wide, wet mouth …..
There he was in the cold morning rain, at my door at 9am.
We climbed into bed – into clean sheets….
for 10am and radio 4…… The Archers Omnibus….
I fell asleep in his arms, missing most of life in Ambridge…..
yet this little haven of snuggledom
had me purring deliciously with delightfully safe sleep.
Outside this nest, Autumn winds
bumbled against the old, rough wooden door
and rains of dark lit skies
defiantly washed the small paned windows,
as it struggled to come in.
“No chance!” I mumbled…. “n o c h a n c e.”
My body wept the tears of my little life, inside.
My heart split open from wetness
of smouldering sadness
as out flew compassionate,
strong arms of an Angel
carrying wings for every single soul
who suffers in this life.
The Angel spoke wordlessly into my eyes –
“When one suffers, all suffers ~ you are not living this alone.”
Ostinato of Autumn
The change from summer to autumn
came rattling at my windows,
sounding in the trees
like the ocean’s breaking waves
and I lay there listening,
with an anxiety
not felt for many months and moons,
to nature’s symphony.
You lay next to me,
flesh white and cool
with goose bumps
asking to be covered.
Sounds of your breathing,
the restless night, brought comforting images of
saw and bow and I giggled, silently.
How I do love you,
you with the gift for ostinato.
Written in support of all who live with Fibromyalgia. 4.5% of the UK population has Fibro, which translates to between 1.2 and 2.7 million people in the UK alone.
Sometimes I write as my eyes close with exhaustion….
on the edge of two worlds, I am.
Frequently I’m dragged by an army
of elves who tug at my brain.
As if pulling all the plugs,
draining blood from my head into the ether,
I am swallowed up, as if liquid.
No focus or thinking,
only sliding into le petite eclipse of reality.
Am I deluded,
trying to stay awake when in fact,
I should have been sleeping
in a hermit’s hollow, warm and silent……?
How good it would be
to leap up out of my fibromyalgic fog
and seize the deliciousness of the daytime dream………
Sometimes it’s like being alone,
feeling the mixed nature of that blessing.
Your attention is in staying balanced enough
to make it through and then,
the calm of nature becomes stirred up and fired
by elemental forces….
Do you not know that when you look to the pitted ground
to preserve your footing, you may not see
through the blow of your wild and windswept hair,
others, coming towards you on the same path?
To look into each other’s soul-filled eyes,
we must first look up and breathe
…… in order to see.
It’s not that the ticking of the clock, that beats down the door to my ears, just to be heard by me. It’s that this steady, warm, heart beat in the room only sounds like it does, calm and round and steady, when all is still at night and only my breath moves the air. The electrical storm in my head becomes audible as I listen with awareness, as computer, lights, appliances all vibrate to form the soundweave of 21stC existence;
Once upon a time I could sit beside my father and hear the woodworm eating a chair. I could lie in the clover patch and hear the Plovers overhead telling me where to find the four leaf specimens….. now there is little of that in our external world….
I find the four leaf clovers in me. I hear the mastication of ideas in my mind and I resolve to live and go on living, before it’s all too late.
The air is soft today –
the air which leads my hair towards the west.
My eyes search quizzically
across rough grasses
to the wooden bridge where you stand.
You lean awkwardly,
staring moodily at the stream’s gentle flow
and I wonder ……….
will you pass my door
when the owls are high in the silent sky.