Saturday, February 14, 2015

a poem for my wife

leap! jump! run! shout!
in this moment you are free --
surprise yourself with the depth of this
abandon, embrace this particular

mystery. there is more to this
action of lunge, stretch, pivot,
reverse -- this is a dance of
intuition & passion, hope & joy.
escape into that place of refuge.

victory comes to those who dance
after dreams; & always they must.
not as they can, or when convenient.

violently hurl yourself full bodied against
lingering doubts, fear that
inserts itself into your steps.
ever vigilant, you must remain
true, steadfast, relentless.

Friday, January 16, 2015

naked & unashamed

last night we spoke
of redemption.
you almost convinced me
it was a matter of vision,
of paying attention.

i see you.

i see you.

what a frightening thought –
to be seen. known
for any length of time,
to be unable to hide
behind your not seeing.

let me return the honour
of noticing you noticing me.
let me shake hands with you.
let me belong to you.
let me be naked & unashamed,
full of glory & longing.

Thursday, January 15, 2015

a man full of regret

that evening i felt the weight
of a past not of my own making,
carried forward
out of darkness into darkness.
it was a night to determine boundaries –
what belonged to whom, & who
makes that decision.
i will never do that again.

i learned that much.

i gathered every graven image,
drawings & paintings, every golden idol –
every thing pulled out of storage
into the light, unveiled, released.
three bins full, & still you wanted more.
the bonfire at Hawrelak Park –
1000 books set afire –
it took hours for them to burn.
they smouldered in the dawn like bricks,
wilted pages and charred spines.

i regret that less.

those books could be replaced
(though most weren’t) still too many
books get burned, too many
books are published. so many
words to nail to the page, so many 
stories that need unravelling. their grip
too tight. they take up so much space.

the art, the poetry, the books – the proof
of the journey, the shadows
of my youth
                   rejected, all
forgotten. misremembered. half-

remembered. how do I recover that?

i should have been stronger.

i should have said no. i should have
tested the strength of my voice –
what was true. i should have
remembered my name,
how it calls out a promise.

the loss of all these things
won’t define me. regret tries
to fill the spaces – sketches the past,
and though sometimes accurate,
it is a thin reminder.

perhaps one day i will forgive you
perhaps i will even forget
this is not that day.

Saturday, December 27, 2014

a poem for my wife

little things turn out not to be.
in fact, they echo & bounce &
sweep you away in a wave, or
a dance, or a dream...

much of you remains a mystery --
always something new to discover,
revelations around each corner, hidden
in pockets, imbedded in words, letters
enveloped between sheets.

vision only gets you so far
as the eye is so easily fooled,
needs constant reassurance.

vision gets you so far--
lifting you to dream a dream, embodied
in each moment & hope with legs & skin,
envisioning each possible future. every
time this thought includes you.

Tuesday, December 23, 2014

a christmas wish

to friends and family both near and far, close or distant, in all your various circumstances - may you find peace and comfort this season, and may this coming year be one graced by a great love.