Love’s Song

Falling into your tired
and gentle eyes,
I found in you a
resonating thread
just glowing
like illuminations
from the silver moon
through the clear,
stark window pane.
I looked with my
humming heart at you,
and then moon,
in her vibrant wisdom,
threaded and melded
our sacred sounds with
the eternal line of time.
Time – which has
no beginning and no end
and asks nothing of we two
but to simply be
Love’s Song.

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Woman

WOMAN

Soft tears fall silently
on cheeks as she sits
without breath, staring.
“She didn’t know what
it was to be a woman
…… neither do I……..
taught by the best, me.”
Palpable grief, greened
by sickness of heart oozed
out of her every pore.
“Sixty two years of not
knowing how to be WOMAN.”

Air felt cool.
Eyes heavy.
Motionless child
buried in pain filled layers
to hide, to scream, to suffocate,
to die to ever being alive……
“I’m in no man’s land….”
she said….
raising one hand to sky
picturing mother’s
worn, rough skin, the razor
she used to shave her chin,
the hands she used to
break the pheasant’s neck….

Mourning the loss
of possibility
turns from one
generation to the next…
till someone realises
they still have time
to become the woman
they never were.
Only then does
something change…
slowly, gently,

no pushing,

no blame.

Process

Processing
Darkling day is creeping towards dusk.
My ageing feet, stiff with years and fallen tears
are cold….. cold like milk in glass bottles
left outside to stay fresh when mum had no fridge….
My feet were cold then but the open fire
I used like a mirror, sitting in front of it
till legs bright red, ached…. unforgivably.
Thoughts of a cold bed, closed door
and gut twisting shadows, would mangle in my head.
Then, in light of a frost laden morning,
curtains yanked back with ferocious frustration
and single glazed, iced over windows
blasted open, “for air”….
“come on, get up” richoceted in my ears
and placed my bare feet on cold, Marley tiled floors…….
Today’s cold floors are met with slippers,
when alone, no one barks except the cat for food…
and I light the fire, my lovely hearth, myself.
It’s all ok, for the mother in me
now understands better the mother in her…..
It takes time, all this and Time…..never ceases to move;

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