Saturday, 25 May 2013

Early Start

Sunshine at dawn, with barely
a whisp of cloud in the sky.
I wake up early, and (for once)
sated with sleep. I decide to
take the dogs for a run, and myself
for a half walk, half run (of the conscience easing sort).
All is still. As I reach the crossroads,
a cuckoo pipes up from the trees,
down in the bog. Other birds trill
and chirp, and a wood pigeon adds its
gentle call. There are bluebells, and
pretty white flowers I can't name.
All is good, and the day stretches
before me, all sunshine and space.

Monday, 20 May 2013

The gossamer thread
that holds
the living to the dead.

Before conception - what?
Last breath then - where?
Floating and tied

with gossamer

Sunday, 12 May 2013

Walking out

The old man struggled determinedly to put his clothes on, though his hands shook and his fingers fumbled; the nurses and the doctor, at the far end of the ward, had their backs to him. He tucked his shirt into the gaping waistband of his trousers. A nurse, half turning, caught sight of him and rushed across the ward. "Please! Getback to bed! You shouldn't be sitting, let alone standing and out of bed!" He stared her down, as the other medical staff followed her to surround him. "I'm leaving". A chorus of "you can't!" " you're too sick" and "please let me help you back into your pyjamas and back into bed".

"I'm leaving. My mind is sound, even if my body is not. I reject this ward. I reject your treatment. I'm leaving". And taking his jacket over his arm, the old man walked, slowly, with difficulty, to the doors at the end of the ward. He stepped out into the corridor, and was gone.

I never saw him again, but his words ran round and round like a loop of film as I lay in the bed, weak, powerless, vulnerable. And I determined I'd do just as he had. And now, six months later, I'm walking out of Ward 5, against the odds, in defiance of their prognosis, I'm walking towards a life they told me I'd never have.

Wednesday, 8 May 2013


Sitting cross legged in the hall,
listening to Mr Slater's assembly,
in the tall, redbrick assembly hall
at the centre of the school. And,
at the centre of the room, the
black square, where the maypole went.
When it was time. And before it was time, where we stripped to our pants and vests, for "music and movement".
Ah. Those days. Playtime, and the black square where naughty boys and girls were made to sit. Naughty boys. Naughty girls. 1973.

Saturday, 4 May 2013

In the headlights

Driving home from dinner, and the sky
dark now, (finally,) at 10pm. Passing under Carrig, the headlights catch,
and startle, three young deer. They circle for a moment or two as the car comes to a stop, then leap away, into the fields, and the dark. It's been a long day - and we're tired. Still - THREE!
They're gone now, leaving a satisfied glow,
and home we go.

Friday, 3 May 2013

Wednesday, 1 May 2013

Spring - finally!

Mama tells a story

when we go for lunch.
"people as me why"
she says
"why I never have relationship
after you father".
We say nothing.
"well", she says
"I bring my friend home,
and YOU, standing on you stilts
and you say What Your Name
and he say Bruno
and you say Bruno?
Like a dog. Woof woof woof.
And you brother, he say
My Mother A Very Good Aim
With a Knife, You Know!