I respect a promise as an unbreakable truth.I think of it as the rings we will wear.
A promise encircles and binds us both, with no beginning, middle or end.
So I promise to be accountable for my own happiness; there will be challenges and trials ahead,
but I ask for us to share the burdens, celebrate our successes and learn from our mistakes.
I promise to practise the virtues of patience, tolerance, forgiveness, and understanding often laid
waste in the world we live.
I promise a labyrinthine love without complacency, already taken root in a foundation we have built
through weathers fair and foul.
When I experience something new, I want you to be there with me.
I promise my life with you, for you, and only you.
(September 17th 2016)
I have this wonderful gift called time. I can sit on a train and enjoy its presence. In the capitalist handbook time is considered low value, but high cost. It has no material form yet we all notice its absence. Both friend and foe, how do we flip it from enemy to ally?
We fortify from danger:
assassins in faces of smiling strangers
virtual enemies in their virtual webs
politics and economics lost to chaos that decide our fates.
We send emissaries to greet the unknown:
riders of fear, and mistrust.
They evaluate, and permute through distorting lenses
and we wait impatiently,
seeking sign of return from fortress apertures that gradually narrow our views.
Imprisoned in amour plated hearts,
and hidden in cages with locks so intricate there is no key
we seek shelter in the half light of life,
bent and broken,
to conjure spirits of freedom.
I walk amongst
and along crumbling walls
of Death’s cloak
whispers to my soul
A warm day of light and living,
with sticky sweet happiness.
Just to sit and be
whilst others hurry and rush,
unaware I watch, weightless
To be an explorer
when time was hidden
with the thrill
in places remote
are days of travel
carrying tales of wonder.
Amongst ancient ruins
Nature claims it’s own
Like Brahma and Shiva:
to create, must be destroyed
As vines take root
in sculpted stone.
Here we are again- after Dad.
I watch her fork shuffle food.
She is independent, fierce
She is alone
and pain is her last friend.
I watch her in hospital,
how many times
does her story need to be told?
Trying to say the right thing,
trying to be dignified and strong.
How can I help? What can I do?
You don’t know her.
I don’t care about tests, treatments and diagnoses
I just want you to know her.
To sit, to hold, to be,
I’m not ready for this.