Black crows

Black crows are silhouettes against a cotton sky.

There is light. And there is dark.

The dark cannot subsume the light. Shine a light, and the dark must give way.

Shadows are wholly dependent.

But light shines of its own accord.

Black crows are silhouettes against a cotton sky.

Ascending simplicity

It took some time, but they finally arrived, the thoughts leading me to hope again.

Here in the cold on a damp bench, water flows and ducks preen, and people walk past hand in hand.

I would gladly share this space, and yet I am gladly alone, I just am and they just are, and somewhere someone exists to sit beside me.

But now the flocks circle. And the traffic flows. Layers of sound like soft bandages wrapping my ears.

The birds. The cars. The voices. The laughter of children. Of men and women. Distant music. The rhythmic scraping of meandering soles on gravel paths.

I am trusting more and more in an ascending simplicity, spiralling out, perhaps, to a basic spiritual singularity.

Shall I name it? I do not dare.

For it exists between the soft wrappings of sound, in the spaces between things we can name.

Cold day. Damp bench. Alone.

It sits here, next to me.

I chased and caught a butterfly

I chased and caught a butterfly,

Behind glass trapped her, just for me.

Her wings lost their colour, (Her beauty began to fade),

Until blackened they dropped off, (Her body withered away).

I chased and caught a butterfly,

Trapped her beauty just for me.

But too late I finally realized,

That beauty is only beauty,

If butterflies remain free.

Here I choose to live

A new world opened before me. One overflowing with light and love. I am neither reluctant nor expectant to enter, for reluctance implies doubt, expectancy implies dependency; I neither fear what lies within, nor seek salvation.

I know this world is meant for me. I will take my time to explore and learn. I will live.

Let love reign

Please take these words, and cast them across a crimson sky. Let the whole world read what I have been led to see. There is no pain so great, nor fear too deep, that a breath of pure love cannot ease.

Allow love the day to seize. Let love reign, and be free.

To the one I know but have never met

On nights when stars pierce the dirty panes,

And the moon casts shadows in my dark room,

With gentle embrace I cradle invisible space,

And my velvet heart beats to thoughts of you.

The miles between us are meaningless,

Crossed instantly on avenues of moonlight.

I walk towards the dancing light

If there is no light, then there is no dark.

I have fallen into the dark; I have become despair, doubt, infinite dread.

The dark says, ‘Turn your back on the light, there is no hope there; the closer you are permitted to come to the light, the further you will inevitably fall. Stay here, on the bottom, for in the end, all is doubt, fear, death, nothingness.’

The dark says the light is but an ideal, one that you can never reach, and thus one that will always fail you.

And I answer: ‘If light is an ideal, then you must be as well. To turn my back on one demands I turn my back on the other. You say it is folly to choose the light for it is an ideal, but then surely it is also folly to choose you.’

And the dark shudders, and spits me from its maw.

In the distance a tiny light flickers.

Caught between two ideals; I walk towards the dancing light.

Thought for food – 7

Trust is the silent energy fuelling any healthy relationship; you truly appreciate it once it is broken, for the silence is replaced with the screeching deafening noise of its fragmented and metastatic parts, circulating like screaming cancerous tumours through the withering and dying relationship, illustrating with crystal moral clarity the following truth: trust is the relationship and the relationship is trust. You risk it all if you take trust for granted; nurture and cultivate it as dearly and attentively as you would a developing child, for in effect, you will be nurturing and cultivating not only your relationship, guiding its development from birth to maturity, but, as any dedicated and caring parent knows, developing yourself as well.

The divine ape

There’s a pain that only I may know.

If it is common why do I feel so alone?

‘There is more day to dawn. The sun is but a morning star.’

Has this wisdom failed me, or have I chosen not to see?

The love of two bound souls…the curves of hips and naked backs…mouths agape in mirrored arches of ecstasy.

We are apes, dammit! So how can we seem so divine?

We long desperately for what we cannot have-

and what we have we fail to see.

The divine is all around and deep within-

A fluttering butterfly tracing sinuous curves across the naked sky,

pulls a string in the poet’s heart making melodious melodies of the mundane.

The sun rises as it sets:

Pain and joy; loneliness and companionship; light and dark; ecstasy and agony.

An ape so divine.

I heard a noise and saw an image

The solitary seagull’s single squawk heard through the open bathroom window. I am too far inland for any sea bird to speak through tilted glass. A distorted remembrance of a time yet to come. I see myself there up ahead, as I imagine I was. A strong and confident man. Ten, maybe fifteen years from now. A distorted time vertigo. The boys grown to men in their father’s infancy. They walk through the glow with emotionally solid strides and the tears of joy well in my eyes. He is my son. And he as well. I know them. The familiar stride, the bend and angle of the knee each step, the neck and the arch of the back. Familiarity as shapes transcending all cosmic limits! I knew those forms before I was born, and they stretch to the end of time. Embedded extensions of solid love and responsibility and friendship and meaning and brotherhood and living. Bodies moving smoothly through blinding nebulae of light. Contentment in my heart. After a lifetime and death and the birth of my ancestors and the descendants of those familiar shapes. Not a time, not a place. A momentary truth anchored to a mistake. A single solitary squawk. Out the tilted window. An inland town. Calling me forward and back home.

Epitaph

There she lay. Clearly at peace. Unburdened of 93 years of life. A warrior; strong, resolute, stubborn, beautiful. Were those eyes to suddenly open, it wouldn’t have surprised me. Were she to beat death, it would simply draw from me a knowing smile.

In life there are two options: to crawl into the past and die there, or to boldly journey, head high, through the perpetual present.

Nanny: her example transcends her death.

The greatest gift

The greatest gift you can give another is a piece of your deepest self.

Not your time. Not your money; but something more precious still.

Is it understanding, or compassion, or attention that you offer? Is there a word bringing these together?

Love?

That piece you offer freely, that is the gift. You offer without reservation. You say ‘Do with it as you will’, though, of course, you hope and trust the other treads lightly.

And that’s the risk you take…

…and the pain you can inflict.

Quote #9

By showing up with hope to help others, I’m guaranteed that hope is present. Then my own hope increases. By creating hope for others, I end up awash in the stuff. – Anne Lamott

ILLUSTRATION BY ELEANOR DAVIS

Read her beautiful article in National Geographic’s October 2018 issue. 

Lyrics #8 – A Murder of One – Counting Crows

Check song out here.
Blue morning, blue morning
Wrapped in strands of fist and bone
Curiosity, kitten
Doesn’t have to mean you’re on your own
You can look outside your window
He doesn’t have to know
We can talk a while, baby
We can take it nice and slow
All your life is such a shame, shame, shame
All your love is just a dream, dream, dream
Well, are you happy where you’re sleepin’?
Does he keep you safe and warm?
Does he tell you when you’re sorry?
Does he tell you when you’re wrong?
Well I’ve been watching you for hours
It’s been years since we were born
We were perfect when we started
I’ve been wondering where we’ve gone
All your life is such a shame, shame, shame
All your love is just a dream, dream, dream
Well, I dreamt I saw you walking
Up a hillside in the snow
Casting shadows on the winter sky
As you stood there counting crows
One for sorrow, two for joy
Three for girls and four for boys
Five for silver, six for gold
Seven for a secret never to be told
But there’s a bird that nests inside you
Sleeping underneath your skin
Yeah, when you open up your wings to speak
I wish you’d let me in
All your life is such a shame, shame, shame
All your love is just a dream, dream, dream
Open up your eyes, you can see the flames, flames, flames
Of your wasted life, you should be ashamed
Yeah, you don’t want to waste your life, baby
You don’t wanna waste your life, now darlin’
You don’t wanna waste your life, baby
You don’t wanna waste your life, now darlin’
Oh, you don’t wanna waste your life, now baby
I said, “You don’t wanna waste your life, now darlin'”
Oh, you don’t wanna waste your life, now baby
Oh, you don’t wanna, you don’t wanna waste your life, now darlin’
Change, change, change
Change, change, change
Change, change, change
I walk along these hillsides in the summer ‘neath the sunshine
I am feathered by the moonlight falling down on me
I said, “I walk along these hillsides in the summer ‘neath the sunshine
I am feathered by the moonlight falling down on me”
I said, “I will walk along these hillsides
In the summer ‘neath the sunshine
I am feathered by the moonlight falling down on me”
I said, “I will walk along these hillsides
In the summer ‘neath the sunshine
I am feathered by the moonlight”
Change, change, change
Change, change, change
Change, change, change
Oh change, change, yeah
Oh, change, change, change
Oh, change, change, change
Change, change, change change
Change, change, change, change, change

Lyrics #7 – I will survive – Cake cover

Listen here.

At first I was afraid
I was petrified
I kept thinking
I could never live without you by my side.
But then I spent so many nights
Just thinking how you’d done me wrong
I grew strong
I learned how to get along.
And so you’re back
From outer space
I just walked in to find you here
Without that look upon your face.
I should have changed that fucking lock
I would have made you leave your key
If I had known for just one second
You’d be back to bother me.
Oh now go
Walk out the door
Just turn around
Now, you’re not welcome anymore.
Weren’t you the one
Who tried to break me with desire?
Did you think I’d crumble?
Did you think I’d lay down and die?
Oh not I
I will survive
Yeah
As Long as I know how to love
I know I’ll be alive
I’ve got all my life to live
I’ve got all my love to give.
I will survive
I will survive
Yeah, yeah.
It took all the strength I had
Just not to fall apart
I’m trying hard to mend the pieces
Of my broken heart.
And I’ve spent oh so many nights
Just feeling sorry for myself
I used to cry
But now I hold my head up high.
And you see me
With somebody new
I’m not that stupid little person
Still in love with you.
And so you thought you’d just drop by
And you expect me to be free
But now I’m saving all my lovin’
For someone whose lovin’ me.
Oh now go
Walk out the door
Just turn around
Now, you’re not welcome anymore.
Weren’t you the one
Who tried to break me with desire?
Did you think I’d crumble?
Did you think I’d lay down and die?
Oh not I
I will survive
Yeah.
As long as I know how to love
I know I’ll be alive
I’ve got all my life to live
I’ve got all my love to give.
I will survive
I will survive
Yeah, yeah
Oh no.

An old soul

I am an old soul.

I weep at the beauty of woodland paths,

of slanted sunbeams breaking through autumn canopies,

and falling, twirling, dancing leaves of red, orange, yellow and brown.

I love this world.

And my existence.

The animals in the forest,

I know they are there. And that suffices.

The trees, the streams, the moss wreathing jutting rocks of granite.

Birds. Deer. Mice.

Insects and worms and peeping frogs.

Paths. Worn, fresh, or to be made.

Blue skies.

White clouds.

The breeze. Wind and rain and sleet.

Gently softly falling snow.

The cold.

Flowers and grass and reeds and the call of the blackbird in the swamp.

The distant ovenbird and piercing screech of the hawk.

Fences, new and broken. Barbed-wire tacked to ancient trees overgrown by gnarled trunks.

Time.

Passing days and months and years.

The ticking clock on lazy Sunday afternoons curled up warmly in the silent comfort of Grandma’s house.

Feeling safe. Secured. Loved. Complete.

I am an old soul.

4 am

I apologize in advance; I don’t want to bore you with these things. I know sooner than later I will be speaking alone to the abyss; my voice a fading echo traveling through stale air, reaching no ears.

Nobody will hear.

The pain, the fear. I want to run. Faster than the wind outside these walls. As fast as light. Maybe then I could ensure escape from these heavy leaden thoughts weighing in the back of my head.

Have you ever felt invisible hands choking your neck, squeezing out infinite tears from below your eyes?

‘Look, it’s not so bad,’ they say. ‘At least you have your health.’ ‘Your youth.’ ‘Have not lost a child.’

Indeed.

But as surely as I cannot experience the world from your perspective, you can’t from mine. And yet I try, and ask for you to understand.

Here I am, at 4 am, waking, shaking, drenched in freezing sweat, hands fumbling, searching frantically for the light, terrified, desperately fumbling, frantically searching for the light.

Oh, that there were monsters under my bed, as when I was a child. Oh, that the rays of light could dispel these choking fears. Old habits die hard; my searching, fumbling hands. The light, like your words, is cold comfort.

The monsters are in my head.

To run. Faster than the wind outside these walls. As fast as light. Maybe then…

The fasting soul

There are words to capture how I feel,

I have lowered my caloric intake to zero

To discover what they are.

My mind and body are one,

Starving for nourishment,

Twisting into hungry knots.

What matters in this state?

This life is all I get,

And I fill it with emptiness;

Cardboard cutouts of complex carbohydrates,

And two-dimensional emotions.

In this hunger, there is clarity,

Moments and seconds filled with epiphany,

The animal, the rock, the clouded sky,

Atoms carrying wind whipping my shaven face,

Making it clean.

I have cried twenty kilos of thought and emotion and soaked the parched ground of my soul.

To bring me back into harmony with this universe,

To nurture and let grow the blissful blossoms of my heart,

Opening optimistic avenues awaiting exploration,

I carry lightness and vitality and strength and

Forgiveness.

Born into this world alone,

Alone I shall die.

I forgive.

I forgive you.

I forgive myself.

I only move if you push me

It is slowing down.

The letters, the words,

only now a trickle.

A sign of change.

Healing, optimism? Or the opposite:

resignation?

This….this is my life.

This is my life?

Resignation.


Someone, oh someone pick me up!

Bathe and clothe and nurture me.

Point the way, or better yet, take me there.

Oh, someone please pick me up!

(I scream into the Abyss and only I can hear).


I have shed a million tears. And I am still right here.

I only move if you push me.

I will shed a million more. Fill this room to overflowing.

And I will not swim.

And I will sink.

And I will be right here.

Fatherhood – a poem

The Abyss Post

Silence reason and there, within

A fruit of consciousness and reflection,

Pushes like a force against the walls of the mind,

Like the beauty of a cloudless morn,

Something indescribable.


On another plane,

When you were young, paddling

A warcraft canoe with your dad – captain,

On Frog Lake in the failing light,

Toward your amphibious haven.


And oh the sound! Of fiberglass on sandy shore.

Of kindling crackling and flame warming.

And oh the smell! Of steak and onion and pine-needle carpets.

Of supping and talking and laughing and thinking.

And the sight…the sight,

Of two people on a log, and a dog

In the bush on a bed of moss.


Tired. Cold. Afraid.

Lying there you listen

To his breath, its rhythm.

As an anchor in the storm of your mind,

You sleep.


Sitting still in the afternoon sun,

This fruit of consciousness and reflection,

Pushes like a…

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