Saturday, 29 August 2015

Hope and hopelessness

As I try to dig myself out of the trenches, I am discovering what an unfathomably murky place the mind is. Recovery is inexact and inexplicable. I've heard it described as 'soul healing', and that feels right to me. The trouble is, there are no tangible markers for any of this soul business - you can't gauge progress by sandwiches eaten or by body mass index. I think it's a very difficult concept to grasp, especially in our western culture of definitives. So in the spirit of all things esoteric and vague, I've turned to poetry. The first poem shows the way up and out of this illness, the second is about things that keep me stuck and sick. 


a clear space, marked
in earth freshly turned  
pungent and raw
but true
new roots, nourished:
fed, watered and warmed
light incites 
and unfurls

love sprouts
boundless,
nurtured, cherished
curling tendrils tickle and spring
buds cluster, closely
sheltered, united
first hugs
then a bloom

life
a creation
a secret revealed
a wish
and a whisper,
unfettered, far reaching
survived long neglected
drew strength from the dark
colourful, vital
persistent
art

growth abounds
in bedrock supported
flowers open, 

alight, a sight
to be seen 
a bow to the breeze 
a search for the sun,
bending, 
breathing
together, one




perform
appease
despair
disease
gag it, deny it, stop it, hide it
don't feel so much
don't think so much
be less
of you

look well
not hard
don't admit, omit
only
chin up, cheer up
paint a smile
the audience waits, impatient

we'll help but
just eat but
don't stray, don't question
stick to the lines

you decided so
flick the switch
quick
stop
still imaginations
bleach bloodied stage floor
dark,
silent
fixed
to reassure




 xx

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