Categories
Life

Fully Human

I’ve seen that image, again.

She sits alone (you could not get any more alone) at her husband’s funeral and we all just sit here and shake our heads, because what else is there to do?

I’m speaking of the image of the Queen at prince Philip’s funeral, but you already knew that. You must have. Who could un see that quiet ache, just another handed to us by the raging depths of humanity.

***

I have hidden from life.

Strike that. I am hiding from life.

Because it wasn’t the Queen sitting there alone that day, it was me. I feel the pain that deeply.

It wasn’t someone else’s little boy sitting in the back of a war zone ambulance, parentless; it was mine. That one slices my heart.

I can’t hide from that darkness, though I want to.

I have to see it.

I have to say it: I am torn to shreds.

***

I cried in my husband’s arms the other night.

I mean I really cried, remembering a time in childhood where I was chosen last of all the children in my class to join the netball team.

I cried, at first, for the poor and beautiful little girl whose heart broke that day. But the depth of my tears came from the realisation that that very moment in time made me the person who will always go in to bat for anyone who needs me. That girl will try her very best to lift others, so that no one else has to feel the pain of being unloved, unworthy, unchosen.

Born is the true beauty of aching life.

And born is the paradox. The knowledge that the other needs to feel that very same empathy-birthing pain, in order to truly see. Even though I’d give anything to protect them from it.

***

You see it, don’t you?

This ache, this wide open ache of humanity, has birthed the very best of us. It has grown our hearts and gifted us the ultimate; the chance to hold and love others from the very core of our being.

But, goodness gracious me.

It hurts to be fully human.

Fully seeing, fully being…

everything.

Photo by Nathan Martins on Pexels.com
Categories
Poetry

This War

I do not want this war.

This softness, I am.

I do not want this

war.

And yet, it flows

where peace seeks to be.

And yet, aggression is

somehow,

the twisted arm

of this peaceful river.

Must we simply flow?

Categories
Poetry

Happy One

There is a tear in my soul.

They want me to smile,

all the time, they want me to be fine,

this world.

But I am not

(though I am.)

There is a weeping tear.

A wound unhealed and breaking

ever deeper,

every day.

I will tell you this:

I am fine.

And I am,

six colours of the rainbow, fine.

The seventh colour.

It is a golden tar.

An aching soul,

searching.

An aching child

within the hardened walls

of a happy one.

Photo by Khoa Vu00f5 on Pexels.com
Categories
Poetry

They Know Not What They Do

Why,

when the road is so beautiful,

(dappled sun on white)

do these lashing tongues

slice my delicate sky, so?

I shall find a cave, as promised.

A dear and perfect home

to soothe.

And I shall cherish the broken,

never shall I fight, as they do.

They know not how their barbs sting.

Be silent and sure, my battered soul.

Silent and hopeful,

the slicing pain will end.

Categories
Poetry

Careless Life

Do not touch this softness.

I see you

angrily tearing at her bones,

leave her be.

Dear sweet, peaceful girl.

For she must rest,

she is weary,

must rest, she has been

battered and bruised

by the tentacles of careless,

careless life!

Categories
Poetry

Beautiful Tears

In the shadow of love

is the aching

of fear.

And I hold you,

love.

I hold you

and your beautiful tears.

Categories
Poetry

Bright New Day

I send my heart

to those in pain.

Let me sit beside you in the dark.

Let me remind you:

darkness is the ship

to a bright new day.

Categories
Peaches In The Darling Sun

And So We Rise

And so we rise.

And so we gather all hope and find our way to peace again.

We think we have broken, we think we have lost our way.

Such beauty lies beyond that which we call failure.

Such strength waits for us patiently beneath the rubble.

Do not be fooled by the darkness.

It is only there so that we may know the light.

Photo by Roberto Nickson on Pexels.com
Day Three. And a new day begins. xx
Categories
Poetry

Sadness

How small we are in the largeness of it all.

Our tiny cries barely heard over roaring humanity.

But we each have a sadness, each of us, true.

Of your sadness, I say: I hear it.

I see it, as clearly as I see you.

And you must know that in my ears

it is as loud as it always has been to you.

It is as loud as it needs to be for my heart

to mend it for you.

Photo by Ron Lach on Pexels.com
Categories
Life

Forgiven

And when she aches

she will know a world beyond herself.

Where thunder becomes her;

a raging fire, waiting to be.

How is this small softness

so wide with grief beyond the day!

How is this smile,

so often true,

suddenly drawn with a question mark?

They will know her pain

only as the tilt of an eye.

They will be forgiven by this one

before they see her sorrow there.

Always, they will be forgiven by this one.