When there is space for my heart to dance
and my breath is a free beat
untethered by realities
I look longingly at rope and regulations that structure and contain
and artificially create my own from candyfloss and impossibility
knowing I will break through immediately
with an imagination that laughs at the absurdity of self-imposed boundaries.
How do I know where
you went away to that day?
But I imagine
a very thin line
between adjacent spaces –
We can almost touch.
Maybe we could walk
and swap philosophies?
Our respective footsteps
on the dusty paths, a sign
We shared a little time.
Then, dressed in sparkles
perhaps you’ll up and choose to
smile and dance away?
Often living souls will stray
Sometimes they will tip and sway
But as the tide returns each day
Soon they will come home.
Where do catlike spirits fly
Which toil would hold and stultify?
They’re hunting free, but by and by
Soon they will come home.
Forget the knots of doubt that bind
us to the clock, uncloak the mind,
reach far beyond, and unconfined
we’ll welcome our souls home.
Today, in the town squares of all great cities
around this beautiful globe,
we will, by common consent, remove divisive flags
hung by history’s tainted shreds of angry pride;
folding them away like old aunty’s table cloths.
And see draped instead, from mountain heights,
a more fantastic sight; our real heritage.
Reflective of all earth’s passion and intensity
absorbing in amazement all our pain,
this is our rainbow – and the music of a shared song.
Economically, it was a difficult time
women itched in woollen scarves
men stamped their frosted minds
a cruel wind blew till their steaming chips were down.
Socially, it was a treacherous climb
He clung to the frozen earth with hooked toes
pebbles snapping like dragons’ teeth
stressed grass grazing his aching knees.
Astrologically, he read the perfect sign
and chose this day to set his sight
at the hill above vast unmolested sea.
At the summit
he would put down his heavy pack
lean his broad back against a small patch of undamaged sky
and watch history unfold.
In the old place, as you snatched your gaze away from me
I saw our futures in the furniture behind your head,
carved from antithesis, set in stone;
you rolled your eyes across an over- stretched conversation
and years flexed and flew.
While I pirouetted into semi dark,
you stuck your colours to the nearest domestic lamp
and remained stoically moth-like. I hardly dare knock
at our last closed door, fearing the beat of distressed wings,
but I come with fresh baked anodyne,
and if you answer, it will make this new morning blossom.
Time to fix, recycle, sort
make a splendid space for thought
Accoutrements will have to go
add-ons may disrupt the flow
Stuffed up anger all turfed out?
Bag it; bin the old self-doubt
Untangle guilty clasps and chains
dust yourself and breathe again.
If feather-bare we toured our plight
round Britain’s eleven thousand and seventy two
wire free mile circumference bringing eggs to you
we wing-clipped osteoporosised amputees
struggling along in twos and threes
to bring you scrawny chicken stew
we wouldn’t make a pretty sight
we know you wouldn’t like to see
so we’ll crouch in A4 cages without light
to lay those guilty eggs tonight.
Red Kites slice twilight skies:
waiters serving cloud cup cakes
upon fine forked tails
shiny bells jangling