Tag: love

A Lesson from the Winter Solstice at Newgrange

A Lesson from the Winter Solstice at Newgrange Like the darkness inside the neolithic tomb, the misapprehension is profound. The star that lights this room knows nothing of our needs, of our constructs. It has no sense of its power, of how much we crave and depend on its warmth and illumination. It does not know that we have always…

You’re There

You’re There It is dark but I feel your hand on me. I hear you breathing as your fingers rest gently on my arm. I lie beside you and do not want to move. This nothing touch is nothing you are capable of any other time. Its rarity moves me. Sometimes I chase this flicker fruitlessly, a will o’ the…

Breasting the Tape

A poem I wrote about my father, who recently turned 79 and has been showing the signs of a mind and body slowing down and no longer being cognisant of the happenings of everyday life in real time. Not all the time, but enough to be of justifiable concern. It is old age. It is diminished brain function. It is…

Merely

Merely I’m sorry. I’m just a man. I don’t know what I represent to you or anybody else. I only know who I am and who I’m not, what I’ve done and what I haven’t. I’m not trying to steal air or drink water or take space that was meant for you. I’m not looking for more. Merely enough. I’m…

We have contact

 “Are we living in end times? … Either way, it is hard not to feel that we are being shown a glimpse of a future to which we should expect to become accustomed. And when the world around you is physically changing, it is almost impossible for your perspective not to change with it… It may be tempting to put…

Closer

Closer When will it be that she sees the shock of the old? When will she stop in her tracks, stop her breath, and take charge of my feelings, so that I’m not hurt by more than the passing of time? No time soon.   She marauds over me like terrain to be conquered. My arms are limbs to swing…

Oxygen

Oxygen Two shots From our wedding day One before And one after The contract Was signed The first In black and white Shows me A rabbit Caught In life’s headlights Stunned and scared But I have no memory Of it The second In colour Shows us Kissing And I am Blowing your head off With my intent Or perhaps My…

What My Mother Gave Me

At what point do adult children stop seeing their mother and start seeing the woman behind the role? Do they ever? I don’t think we can ever fully detach ourselves from seeing our parents as parents first and people second. But when we do peer behind the screen it can be so illuminating in recognising where we’ve come from and…