Tag Archives: Prose

Were You There?

It was my turn,
to watch over you that afternoon.
I was in the chair next to your bed,
when the nurse came to check on you.

I was aware fluid was building in your lungs;
a sign death was coming.
When the nurse said it was likely
to happen that night
I was taken aback.
The certainty was voiced
by another with quiet assuredness.

I sat frozen in the moment
I wanted to cry out like a child
“no you can’t go!”
Instead I broke down crying.

The call to my sisters
Was fraught with emotion
“come now, it’s time”

I prepared the room
for their arrival.
I talked to you
as I moved furniture around.
Explaining Jean would want to
Sit close to you
I hope you heard.

Death is not what I thought it would be.

Death washed over you
peacefully, silently.
You’re breathing softened;
to nothing.
Your heart was as
defiant as you were in life
coming to a resounding final rest.

Silence filled the room
wrapping its soft arms around us,
as our grief filled our souls.
I bent over to kiss your cheek,
It was cold and pasty.
It was then I realised you had passed much earlier
than we were aware.

Were you there, watching on
Mothering the living?
I hope you were there.


Words Forsaken

I hear
I know this despair intimately, old history, an old door
I feel shame, confusion
A deep sadness
My sorrow is profound
Words abandon articulation
I am left with grief
I never wanted to hurt, to cause pain
But I did
Your love is sacred
Your happiness is vital
I lay before you naked with love
To you I surrender
And ask for forgiveness
Trust is to be earned, to be respected
Words are forsaken here
It is in the deed where trust is cherished and nurtured
In time


Karmic Ruin

Mothers beware
Your maternal sins
Bide their time
As sons grow into men
The role of dutiful son;
the singular fatherly inheritance
His masculinity a life long performance
Of karmic violence
Without mirrors
There can be no reflection
No understanding
No compassion
Bitterness unleashed
On the old frail woman
Bewildered and hurt
Unable to challenge or run
She can only sit and absorb
The volcanic eruption
He cannot see
Ageing insists
The woman before him
Be understood differently
Without memories
She is not the same
Each sunrise is new
What happened in the past
Is the past
To understand this
Is to let go of the ruin
And forgive



I demand attention
Am imposing and assertive
I will not be quiet
Or accept second place
I am ego
i don't need to be capitalised;
given an over inflated false value
i see myself as many
different but the same
i am small, human and genuine.

A Gift

Bury the sublime
The unparalleled emotion
Of soaring freedom
All but ephemeral
In its addictive sweetness
Bury it deep
So as not to dwell
On what is no longer
Where it can be kept safe
Indebted to the universe
Our paths crossed
I can savour the all consuming joy
In a heartbeat
The connection never ceases
I soar in the sublime.

Let’s Go Home

Conversations of the other shoppers
ebb away
I notice
your long sleek black hair
falling over your tanned bare shoulders,
your hands
pressed against the cold glass refrigerator door
bearing the weight of your day,
your eyes searching
for more than just your favourite wine
for release, peace.
catch my reflection in the glass
transfixed by your prostrated body,
you know that look
of rising desire
and heat,
you no longer want wine
but sweet release
I walk toward you with clear intent
assured you are waiting,
“Let’s go home”

Fool for Love

Words of promised affection
Hoping the sentiment
Will be eaten to feed another's
Who is the fool?
Disingenuous words veil a want
An addiction to praise
To sympathy
A gluttonous ego
Nothing more than a scavenger of love
Preying on a perception of weak
They are clear and the agenda
Someone I now, used to know

Morning Has Broken

Music that fraction too loud
Drowning my thoughts
One more thing
To add to the whirlpool of a morning
Money lost
Lost where?
I put it there, I did!
The text
Ok see ya next time I guess
Did I hear the first message?
Was there a second attempt?
A call?
Money lost, people lost
Watch the time
Don’t lose that too
Need to pick up a coffee
Is this a good idea?
Caffeine and stress
A marriage made in hell
A calming presence
Happens upon an alcove of respite
Big old leather chairs, soft lighting
I begin to exhale
           And write


That Moment

That  moment
the truth is known
the hurt cannot find expression
in words or tears
filling my being
the hurt leaches out of my pores
dismissed, disposed, discarded
the words scaring my body in self harm
but there is no relief 
only more pain
I came with open heart and gratitude
not seeing their masks
I brought the beans
I left unknowing I never existed
I have little in common with these people
so why should I care?
          because they’re family



clock ticking
rain dripping
birds nestled under the leaves
calling to one another
I’m here, I’m safe
wet lush and green
the rain nourishes and heals
subtly commanding reverence
movement and mood naturally adjusts
why do we keep insisting
we have the power



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