so we chat and laugh, listen to the radio. a british voice, mainly black and white. we swapped jokes, and wondered if they laughed at hitler. at one point . give pots,…
Source: . debate three .
About me.
About me.
One night like most nights
Making the long drive home
From working with a damaged child
Somewhere down the road.
My mobile rang and I listened
To Denver’s soft whispered voice
“Hi can I ask you a question?”
“You know you always can.”
“What do you want to ask me?”
Silence just the sound of the road
So I said “What’s the question Denver?”
She said “It’s kind of hard to explain.”
“Go ahead anyway I’m listening
I have plenty of time just ask away”
In a slow voice I heard a little girl say
“Can I have a blood transfusion?”
“I don’t want my blood anymore”.
I asked her to explain so Denver replied
“She told me my dad isn’t my dad
My blood will prove he isn’t my dad.”
“So if I get my blood taken out
And have my dad’s blood put in
They won’t take me away from him”.
Denver was 9 years old today.
She was asleep when her naked
Raving drunken mother broke in
And in a hate filled rage
Killed the pets of the children.
She explained her mother phoned
For her birthday with the news
“Your dad isn’t your dad
He’s somebody you don’t know”.
“But Rob” Denver said
“My dad’s really my real dad.
He’s been there forever.
He’s the only one I’ve known.”
“If I have his blood
They won’t take me away.”
She sighed when she heard me say
“I won’t let them take you away.”
Sequel
I met Denver’s dad today
He smiled when he saw me
Shook my hand and said
Denver’s grown she’s OK
She’s working
And living her life
After a childhood
Straight out of hell
Ten years before
He came asking for help
Somehow it doesn’t
Feel that long to me now.
And the memory of that child
Her struggles with such pain
It’s still so strong I can feel it
But I also see her smile again.
And before he bade me good bye
He thanked me for the advice
And the quiet words to reassure
His small lost child who phoned
Because she knew she could
At times when her worries grew
Too much for her heart to take
And now Denver’s growing too.
From my poetry collection “Time to Heal”.
RAC.
I don’t understand
I don’t understand
I don’t understand the reason
I watch and listen
I’m confused by people
As they stand up straight
In front of the cross
And mouth the words
Of the hymnal and still insist
This is a Christian nation
And I am left in a state
Of wondering in that way
That I frequently find
That leads me to question.
Does Christ’s teaching
Mean absolutely nothing?
Or have no significance at all?
For the self-professed Christian
When they declare that war
Is necessary and can’t be avoided
Even when warmongers are born again
I shouldn’t be surprised or confused.
It was another war in another time
And I remember listening then
To the same rationale
The need to defend ourselves
From a threat by a nation so poor
It couldn’t feed itself let alone
Pay for bullets, bombs and planes.
And I watched that older generation
Mouth the same words, the same
Hymns insisting the need for war
As they raised themselves from prayer
And moved their lips to the “Our father”.
It was enough to set me walking
From the stalls of the choir
And turn my back on the mouthing
Of words without grace or meaning
I’ll say it again I’m confused by people
But perhaps the blame lies with me
For this perpetual confusion
Maybe I expect too much of others.
And as Billie that crooked boned
Hedge layer once said “You know
People never change” with an absence
Of a critical tone but he looked at me
Hard all the same, holding my eyes
To see whether I’d heard his meaning.
From the poetry collection “Time to Heal”.
RAC.
Sequel
A good friend said
I read your work
And burst into tears
when I read about
the friend we shared
in those days
in art college
and her dying
in that way
in 1972.
A good friend remembered.
.debate two.
watched the debate right through on catch up. meanwhile you phoned & messaged me nicely. placed on pause a while, while i answered. i noticed that one said nothing in parti…
Source: .debate two.
Repatriation
Repatriation
He stood in the darkness of the C-130’s hold
Time seemed to have stopped, a minute so slow
Waiting in the silence for the men outside to go
They’d come dressed to honour their friends
Standing to attention to give that last salute
To the fallen in coffins draped with union flags
He watched the Union Jack lowered to the ground
He stood to attention and listened to the padre’s words
He’d watched men stood stiff, heard the bugle blow
Holding themselves together for that final show
Each coffin carried into the planes steel hot hold
The ramp raised that silent blackness once more.
It was that ground that we fell, he fell and he stayed
It’s that ground, that sandy soil and the dried out dust
That fills your eyes, your ears, nose, socks and boots
Fills the deep heart of you, your spirit and your soul
It never leaves wherever you are, wherever you go
It’s the darkness, the memories, the joy and the loss.
It is the brightness of that dawn, that sky, our hopes
It never leaves wherever you are, wherever we go.
RAC
