Not a peaceful thing.

Truth is not a peaceful thing.
Truth can be unkind.
I wish it was a made-up thing
I made up in my mind.

But truth is laws that can't be broke
and truth is oh, so not a joke.
Truth like love goes deep inside
and changes you forever.

It's worth, they say, a love that's lost,
but knowing comes at such a cost.
It breaks your heart and frees your mind.
It's easier to stay blind.

Truth is not a peaceful thing.
It tears apart my myths.
But I choose freedom over peace,
reality over bliss.

Somehow

I will sing while you dream your plausible dreams

I will dance with my life while you lay the plans for yours

While you are safe and secure in your womb

I will wander on and on

never finding

but somehow more content.

Wrote this some years ago, '96 or '97 I think.

Beware

Beware, oh seeker of the Truth!

It is a fearsome creature.

Sharp of tooth

and strong of jaw,

it holds steadfast

to nature’s law.

It will not kill you

nor leave you alive,

and yet somehow

you will survive.

For a time, that is.

For a time, that is all.

No questions asked,

no trumpet call.

Death, and that is all. 

Beware, oh seeker of the Truth!

Do not go out in glory.

Crusader,

warrior, you will not like

Truth’s ending

to your story.

And once Truth scars you,

and it will,

there is

no going back.

Stay home, where you’re safe.

Stay home, where there’s love.

Ask no questions,

call no bluffs.

Live, that is enough.

Beware, oh seeker of the Truth!

Your armour is your lie.

Once you lay it down

you’re light.

You may dare

look Truth in the eye.

Will it harm you? No,

but it will wound.

Will the pain

be worth what you gain?

Can you stumble to a fresh start?

Bear the burden of your broken heart?

Do you need to be free?

Is it vital to see?

Seek then, with me.

 

Take a walk when the rain is gone

Take a walk when the rain is gone,
when the clouds hang uncertainly in the sky,
and the trees stand with bowed heads.
Soon the sun will return
and with a gentle hand
lift their faces up to him.
The earth breathes easily:
damp, challenged, refreshed,
and the evening sky speaks to me of heaven.

All around me is beauty born again and again.
When I am faced with my own frailty,
knowing this brings me some peace.
I shall have to die one day,
but the sky, the earth will thrill, will soothe other hearts.

I wish you shelter from the storm.
A warm mug of coffee, clasped in your palm.
Someone to love you, nestled
in the crook of your arm.
These are the things I wish for
you and everyman.

But may you also be content
to bear the brunt of a storm
or the dull dry weight of a windless day.
To take the bad for the good that may follow,
the hard that will with time be easy,
the cruel that might teach you to be kind.
May you take from life what you can.
Laughter and sunshine, thunderstorms and tears.

#

This poem was inspired about 25 years ago, by Daniel Day Lewis (yes, "Lincoln", and no, I don't actually know him personally). On my first and only and absolutely fabulous holiday to London, my friend Akila took me to the National Theatre to see Shakespeare's Hamlet. Lewis played the title role. He was brilliant. He BURNED. And then two days later, it appears, he burnt out:  collapsing on stage and having to retire to recover. When I heard about this, I felt such pain, huge waves of it. I'm still not exactly sure why. And then I sat down and wrote this poem.

P.S. This is a reworking of the original (from Dec 13th, 1989!), that I did tonight.

If life is a test

If life is a test, I am failing

or else I’ll just scrape through

with a scrawl in the margin of my report card

saying "Must try harder" “Lacks focus”

or “Expected more of her”.

If life was a school, I was just the class fool,

and everyone laughed but me.

A need to bleed.

We are the animals in the circus, the gladiators in the arena.
We cut ourselves open, and they applaud.
We bleed, and they throw coins.

Every act of creation calls for blood.

The bringing forth of what has been growing within us.
The birthing only possible with pain.
The need to hear an appreciate voice cry out,  
It’s a boy! It’s a girl! It’s a poem, a story, a song!

We who create have a need to bleed, and a need to let the world watch.

Some of us bleed through pens and pencils, some through colour and clay.
Some through texture, or numbers, or with wood, leather and string.
Some of us, our voices bleed, or our arms and legs as they move
through space. Mothers bleed, and some never stop bleeding.

We who create, bleed, and all blood flow starts from the heart.

Lost and found.

Sometimes, I feel lost.
Now is one of those times.
I look at the vacant spaces and have to accept
that nothing has stopped me from living but me.

Sometimes, I look for inspiration.
Nowadays, it only makes me feel
weaker, sadder, handicapped, fruitless and scared.
What ought to inspire me pulls me down.

Sometimes, I want to escape
to another city, to a farm or another country.
But I know that there is no escape
from what I carry in my head.

Sometimes, I want to die
and that tells me I forgot to take a pill,
the little blue one
that makes me like everyone else.

Sometimes, I sit down to write.
And I find myself.
And people tell me I inspire them.
And I am content in my head, and alive.


(1:20 pm, Friday 3rd May. No edits.)

Three candles.

I light a candle for the past.

For all that has been, that made me what I am today.

For those I love and have lost, gone but within reach, within my mind.

For humanity’s lessons, waiting to be picked up, dusted off and learnt from.

For courage, to look at all that was then, which is the only way into an untethered now.

I light a candle for the present.

For all that I have and am and do and feel, for these are my blessings.

For those around me, because they are a part of me, and I of them.

For humanity’s questions, and that I may never stop seeking answers.

For love, that I may touch everything with kindness and respect,
and so find myself in a gentler tomorrow.

I light a candle for the future.

For forgiveness from the children yet unborn, for the wrongs I may not have righted.

For time to make amends, and to make the most of what is left.

For strength to live fully, so that I can die without regret.

For hope, that I will live forever in a memory.

3-6 pm, 29 March 2013

(edited 16 April 2014)