an unusually warm day.
time has slowed
though many are back to work.
sound of bees humming,
though they aren’t
not near me.
this morning I saw the murk of grey clouds harden into a covering that lifted right off
all at once
off the dawn sky
off the sunrise blossoming into day
off my heart
drifting away, I didn’t even pay attention because the dawn caught my breath
breathing sighs
among the warm breezes, among the back to work hum
an unusually warm day
swimming,
pool of dawn
splashes of spark ignite me
hope fire chills my bones
Did I dive in?
I don’t remember
I swim in dawn de cologne
it stings a little bit
too alive too now
everything dead is gasping
stranded if it will not
give it self up to life
being dawn-summoned it shrinks
enfeebled, inert,
dissipating in one hiss
warm radiance consoles
consoles the weary
fear not, fear not
wherever hope was not
it was
it is
it will have been
splash spray spray
Are you there, self?
Or have you given up,
understandably
as you have been
intolerably neglected.
I coax you with delicious morsels
(Look a fun moment with friends!
Look, the beauty of the garden!
Soon we will bike to the seaside!)
as to a mouse, in its hole
Am I a cat to you?
Is that why you hide,
timid?
I deliver monologues
explaining everything, patiently
as if to a small child whose mother
culpably, had to depart
for work, or an evening out.
Who cares? You left me.
You will not be reasoned back
You will not be controlled
You will not diminish
all those weary days.
But if I wait patiently and listen,
go about the necessary tasks,
forgiving myself at least and others, being
merciful,
perhaps suddenly you will be there
before I have really noticed
and then something new will begin.
child
sitting there, legs dangling
enthralled, wondering
playing notes as
precisely, intentionally as a
Phd researcher,
though four years old
girl
sitting there, music room
stuffy, piano teacher
aside, seeing notes
black marks on black lines
pure
girl, still, though older
sitting there, wishing
her father was not so emphatic
my daughter could play that piano,
a contortion, playing
another person’s tune
teenager
sitting there,
aplomb, the one who can
accompany the orchestra
glory, approval,
satisfaction
young woman
sitting there, university
practice room, ‘perhaps you
can teach me?’ – she fails to recognise
an offer of intimacy,
and why should she?
she is absorbed
twenties
long absence, no room
in the small spaces, none
in time either
thirty-something
sitting there, new home
space, although it’s squeezed up to the sofa
new teacher,
horror at performing,
at persistent error,
inepitude,
shaking with it
forties
sitting there, new home
old piano abandoned to old existence
yet grace, magic
though borrowed, a queen’s instrument
peace, beauty, renovation, reunion
soul.
I was radiant with hope
delighting in the beauty
the truth, luminous over
my being, my story.
Blows rained down,
as if a cudgel to the heart
yet mere words.
You took my fears
as a script, copied
the old patterns
I thought I had, perhaps
eluded.
You crushed all joy from me
dismissing that it once
was shared, that depth,
the wonder of a true
communion.
Or was it? Certainty you
sowed with doubt, did you?
were you? how could you?
To our dreaming together you said,
no, alone.
An uncanny insistence
growls irritable from deep within me.
Trust your heart; your
own wisdom is truth.
Believe yourself.
What do I say to you now?
Can I undo myself from the
places you have
conveniently assigned for me
not to cause disturbance
not to trouble your
nice new story?
to elude the work
of making ground?
Can I heal from the idol
jailer of your own captivity?
My battle now is yours,
unfought.
I am not ruled by
convenience or comfort.
I seek truth.
Your blows have momentarily discouraged me
My wounds will heal
A mere skirmish, I will announce,
My laughter will return.
I will dance again.
I have lived this story before,
perhaps, yes,
some may say
but now I’m wiser
I untwist the events from your grasp
evil prophet,
I laugh giddy at my freedom, my knowing
this time the story will belong to beauty.
extraplorer 