Poetry

Unpublished

One Last Time

The last time I sat with you,

your breath was as shallow as a bird’s.

You took up so little space.

Downton Abbey was on the TV,

unwatched, your eyes unfocused;

perhaps you were looking past it all

to where flesh and bones can rest

and we can lay down the roles we play.

I held your hand within mine

as you had once held the whole of me.

And when it was time to go

I said ‘We’ll see you on Christmas Eve.’

For that moment, you came back,

saw me, gave a small nod and mouthed ‘Yes.’

‘I love you,’ I said briskly,

but the words lingered, like a goodbye.

The next morning, you were gone.

You had let the ebb-tide take you out

beyond my reach, beyond words

into the other side of the air.

And I can’t breathe for a heart

full of years and days and dreams of dreams:

paddling on Llandudno beach,

the petrol smell of Hednesford raceway

and pine trees on Cannock chase.

You were always there, until today.

I’m glad you waited for me,

one last time; glad for long sleepless nights

when the dark offers questions

which can only be darkly endured;

when you will teach me this truth:

that loss is another name for love.

Unpublished

Solstice

In the chamber of my heart

no light enters.

It’s ok, though.

The dark is simple, gentle.

It lets the blood flow in, out.

It is eyeless,

judges nothing.

It is my secret and yet

I have never known its name.

Words are born there.

Peace. Let it be

unowned, unsaid. Let it be.