Some January Poetry
An offering of some poetry to start the year.
At the beginning of this year, I wrote a newsletter which was about 75% finished, written primarily around the new moon, but since a lot of things have changed and the words read differently. I surrender myself to the changes in dynamics, and remind myself I did all I could, maybe even too much in hope to salvage, retain and potentially grow from seeds of an old plant. Maybe the summer will come, and those seeds will be there. However, I think I’ll be tending to other wild things. For now it’s winter. It’s January, and I’ve started looking at art with others. The drawings, we share stories, asks if my mum’s an artist too and I show my paint stained hands.
Over the festive break I updated my website and decided to add in poetry from the past 4.5 years as my writing is a large part of my creative practice. Storytelling predates many of the other psychological arts, so felt it fitting, as a storyteller of sorts, to share some of this work - and a recent unpublished piece - to start off the year. You can read more here.
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THE WORLD WILL NEVER END
Speak softly to the wind
Give her a story for tomorrow
Something different, a little sweet
You see, they don’t need to know
About yesterday
or this morning
How the world felt like it was ending
For hours
A million times over
Or what was said in the shower
On the way to work
Stud by the counter
Prayed at 2am
While ruffling under sheets
You see, that was then
A moment of history
Every loose end
A moment of madness
Where no one else was around
When your palms met your ribs
And you found skin in the way
Speak softly to the wind
Speak to the wind
Say something
Maybe she’ll carry the message
Up into the heavens
Where nothing intercepts
Not even the birds
Or the souls who float
Are allowed to deny
Speak softly into the wind
Ask them how the world never ended
And how we carried on
A CURE FOR THE TIMES
Look for the beauty
Especially in this moment
When all edges of a yesterday
have frayed into a new shape
Neither path was chosen
But a given
Heavens have reckoned
You can see this to the other end
But I am asking you
Look for the beauty
Within the madness
Look at each star
The moon
The bloody planet of war
And when you’re hungry
Don’t you forget about Venus too
The constant and the familiar
I am begging you
Look for the beauty
Go outside
Run in winter’s flowers
Make friends with the forest
Let ivy surround you
Grow on your skin
Cloak you
Like a tulip on your shoulder
Black cherries in an unknown future
When you feel safer
Ready to undress again
So please my love
Look for the beauty
Especially in this moment
Maybe then the world
Will be a shape you recognise
Once more
Again
0.4%
We’ll sit at the same tables
Maybe you’ll say something
Tell me about a time years ago
When this same moment
Felt cleaner
Before the water got some flavour
Now we can’t stop
Pouring the salt
Into the lake
IN PREFERENCE OF DYING ALONE
I need to be held, like
I need to be held
In the way
Which only
Two adults
Laying
Under a loud fan
In a humid country
While it rains in August
Could understand
Why their skin
Is still touching
In such cruel heat
PLAY - REFLECTION
This is where the meat of the land lies.
You’ve dressed her in parts heavy
Bought her near edge of cliff
Ready to throw overboard
All before, there’s been given a chance
To hear her say
The most important parts of all
The ocean we breathe to sea which drifts
Feeds the rock we stand on
Undress, speak clearly and cry
We never knew the land could be
So different
PAUSE - REQUESTS, PART ONE
An uncomplicated life
During unprecedented times
Where there’s daily rain
Enough joy in the food I eat
And plenty of oil for my skin
Where lovers demands are simple
Where the grass is still green
As it was once in childhood
And lovers are minimal
Friend quarrels are peaceful
Ice caps are still frozen
And sugar tastes sweet
POST FLAME
Go on, from our heart. Tell
‘This time, life spent
best than thousand,
with others’
Could we sit at familiar places
Eat familiar food
Watch as familiar chairs
From which legs hung
Now bare, empty.
The sentiment, oh the sentiment.
You could be optimism
SOOTHE
I’ve found myself
Speaking the prayer
I told myself I would never make.
The effort my voice makes
To move air
In twilight hours.
With each word
My intentions multiply
And with each return
I know the words replied.
In these times
With these truths
That which is written for you
Will surely come to soothe
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The following is unpublished.
DEATH HAS TWO MEANINGS
I read a few former letters
or notes of a timely past|
A few daggers arranged in a perfect line
My crown to the innermost heart
The kernel of the fruit
The key to each blade
All are built to last and suffice
My seven gates of heaven
Turned to seven gates of hell
My seven ornamental wolves
Each a guardian of the night
She howls each chord to the moon
And the moon, we call her our mother
And each dagger bore
And unfolded another secret
Another past life
A longing life
Where I asked many nights over
For the sweetness of silence
In a room build for two
For you and I
Where I’m set free to roam each land I drew
Into the black sands of time
This is the incense burning
A candle lit
Ancestors calling
The heat rising
And sweat departing
Sweat has no means to run dry
Soon it’ll be noon
The sun will reach its peak
Every howling silenced
Each wolf returned home
Nodes have shifted in perfect time
I will forever remember
The etching of each note
Scratched in deeper with every cut
At each of the seven points
Beneath the breast plate
That this was a passing
Set at an ordained time
And my death happened
At nine months prior
Before the age of thirty five
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Until next time, Salaam x