Sitting beside her hospital bed,
Holding her hand as she sleeps,
I close my eyes for a moment,
Tired. Only tired.
Nothing keeps.
I must look as if I am praying.
I wonder if I should,
But before I frame the words,
The answer makes itself heard.
It’s up there, in the title.
It’s the magical word.
I know it.
I hear it all the time.
I submit. I accept.
I bow low.
I follow the path of the flow.
The fairy tales tell of sleeping Princesses,
Awoken by valiant Princes.
All comes aright.
They live long and inherit the Kingdom.
All very predictable,
After so many tellings.
But what of the poor Knight,
So long lost in his constant vigil
And a quest that is never completed?
He thinks he is faced with defeat.
He lays down to sleep,
Alone in a wood,
His tired horse stands drooping beside him.
The things he most trusts,
His sword and his shield,
Are laid down to rust.
He denies them.
He has come to despise them.
The woods have a sparkle.
The dawns silvered shine has a twinkle.
The air sets the leaves all a-tremble.
Soft steps are parting the branches.
Wings like a butterfly flutter.
Larger than life they keep spreading,
Bowing, caressing, enfolding.
When the morning light comes,
Tender and bright,
The fresh morning dew has moistened his lips.
His eyes closed,
Deep in a dream,
He feels the touch of one sweet long kiss.
One kiss.
That’s all it takes.
It’s a kiss that strengthens,
A kiss that inspires,
A kiss that heals and sustains.
He has no more need of his armour.
Now he can arise
And become a true Knight.
Only a true kiss can do this.
posted a year ago as an end of the year poem
such shadows come and fall on me
from joy to sorrow, like a switch
i fight to turn the light back on
i don’t know where the joy has gone
a single note in some old song
a word not said
a thought unwise
i try to see where i went wrong
the tender sweetness
on a breeze
can turn my heart
and make me freeze
and then i go and sit a while
and lean against a steady tree
and wait to smile again
and see
like the earth we reach for warmth
and the thirsty kiss of rain
all things in nature
are the same
it’s all a mirror of ourselves
dimmed and scratched
things unclear
and things not seen
this constant flow
of dark and light
is just the deep souls day and night
and the turning of the year
I can follow you down the tunnel
or wait for you at the end.
We can do it all over again.
There’s nothing we can’t mend.
It only takes understanding.
Above all, I’m your friend.
Above all, and below,
my soul will always know you,
wherever you may go.
That’s why I love you so.
Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O no; it is an ever-fixed mark,
That looks on tempests, and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken.
Love’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle’s compass come;
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.
On the old piano keys
Jingle Bells is played again
and Jack Frost paints the window pane
with pictures from the fairy glen.
Children rush to look and see
the gifts in piles beneath the tree
wrapped in red and gold and green,
they sparkle in the magic light.
Merry, constant and unseen,
sweeping through the starlit night,
Santa flies above the towns.
The cake and drink we left is gone.
This childhood magic’s over now
but still I sing the Christmas songs.
When the storms of winter blow
and windows rattle, waters freeze
and the fire burns very low,
I’ll bring you home and wrap you up.
Our lights still twinkle in the dark
and we will drink the loving cup.
my heart is no longer an open book
not even to myself
it’s in a language i can’t read
the pages keep on turning
the pages are well-thumbed
I am tired of reading
i don’t know whether i should smile or groan
i am looking for a sign
a symbol
a fingerprint
that shows that it’s still mine
or is it yours
has it always been yours
all the time
to kindle a spark
of recognition
on this dim lit path
i am seeking an illustration
of a crossroads
in the dark
i have a friend
who gave me a blessing
she blessed my family
my kith and my kin
and all my tribal horses
my hearth and my home
and the warmth of my fire
it drove the cold from my heart
i wondered if i deserved it
only i can judge
but my horses are well-pastured
despite the hard frost of the winter
if you are sailing into a storm
you don’t seek a sinking vessel
i am being pragmatic
romance is alluring
a vision of paradise islands
leading to shipwrecks
it doesn’t save lives
I’m a sailor
it’s not a choice or by chance
it’s an anchor
but most sailors can’t swim
i will build my own ship
and be Captain
I wont name this ship Star of the Ocean
or Victory or even Endurance
if i ever recruit
the crew will be tried and tested
and walk the plank when found wanting
I name this ship Endeavour
The Dreaming Path 