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Memories and messages

 

Another day

Another journey

Hills grey and laden

With mist.

The swallows flight

In the lane

Ahead of me

Brought you

Our friendship.

Into my thoughts

And the memory

Of our last talk

At the farm

Before you died

You were eighty

And the cancer

That had bitten

Hard into you

Had won its battle

I remember

You’d just disclosed

That you were abused

As a child

You knew

I was speaking

At a meeting

With those

Who care

For the young

The damaged

And abandoned

So I asked

What message

You’d want me to give

Work out of your

Heart with love

Not from your head alone

I asked whether

We are able

To teach

How to show

Compassion

You do it all the time

Apart from to yourself

Be kind to you

Don’t give it all away

Keep some behind

I’m constantly

Surprised

At the kindness

Of the body

To release

Small memories

In ways

That ease the pain

Of loss and the hardness

Of leavings.

Your message

Remains.

 

 

RAC

 

Another journey

 

The chiselled letters

On stone

1851

Standing on

The iron bridge

The river

Below

Flushed with rain

And stained

With earth

Washed away

By the rising

Waters spate

Leaves

Of Beach trees

Glistening green

Shimmering

With each

Breath

Of wind

I observe

The day.

 

RAC

If I had to live anywhere else

I’d like to live by a rivers side

to watch the water flow

clear in spring and yellow

amber wine in summer

then brown in Autumn

with the waters full in spate.

And I could wash away the regrets

and worries, and that feeling

that I’ve failed you badly

 

If I had to live somewhere else

I’d want to live by the sea

overlooking a wide estuary

and walk along the gathering shore

to look underneath wrack

and peer into clear pools

that tides wash clean.

And maybe the sea

could wash away the sorrow

the regret for all the pain.

 

If I had to live anywhere else

I’d want to live where the air

in the summer stays cool and clean

so maybe a clearing in a forest

with stands of great trees

and a spring of clear water

that I could drink and slake

my thirst for the calm

of a quietening soul

and feel the certainty of you.

 

RAC

Ghosts of love

 

If there is not love

What is there

A vacuum

The emptiness

Of words

Something spectral

Of what used to be.

 

 

RAC.

 

Imaginary

 

I read her posts

Sometimes

I examine

The images

The work

The texture

Of the glistening

Hue

The delicacy

Of words

A story

Stories

And muse

Over that first

Morning coffee

Of the journey

Of all the journeys

Imagine

Glaze.

 

RAC