It is painfully strange,
this waiting for the day
when I shall go under yet
another knife, a sterile room
a surgeon’s steady hand…..
Pumping herbs and starving
the sad offender is a persuasion,
for, I do not need it in my life,
however much it wants to stay,
devouring my hurt body,
bit, by human bit.
They cut it out, poison it to death,
look at it, the specimen that it is –
bare and raw…..
Where oh where is the compassion
for its existence….?
The honouring of what it teaches me?
The space to work with it and change it?
Just leave me be, to chat with this
‘Dark Queen’ inside my soul……….
She is weeping you see,
Longing to be honoured
weeping to be Loved.
PASSION was in the trees today….
how they crashed and bashed around
being shaken by high winds….
the winds of focus and intent,
unapologetic for raping branches and twigs,
leaving them quite bare and staccato like.
Golden, bronzed leaves came
flying horizontally through the air
like flat stones skipping on the tide,
as folk stumbled in and out of parked cars
like Lowery’s stickmen,
facelessly leaning into the wind.
I needed air….. I flung wide the windows
and let late Autumn blow its way through
and out, back up into the dappled sky…….
There is passion in my house tonight….
the wind came calling my name today
and has left his heart with me ………..
Filthy sky scrolling
out from the west.
Light descending is if a
dirge leads its way home.
I look at my unlived self
as my ample, ageing arms
reach in to pull me,
Now, for once,
I swirl like a wave
of lightening rather
than wailing of the
banshee under the tree.
Nothing, in the manmade
world is worth the sacrificing,
of mine or any other
I shall rage till all this threat
to life is whipped by
tongues of flame,
moulded by fingers
of the Alchemist
and I am free to transmute
it into the Light, here now,
in the wild and beautiful
of this mercurial world.