sadness, sickness and Healing.

Written in anticipation of my own Senility

Touch and Go

Each day
A little more stripped back.
Leaves leave
Exposing waterfall behind
More naked,
Edges gone, and trimmed.
Endeavour subsides.
Leaves falling.

Passions stay
Connected to my roots.
Passions even scream
More loudly, now exposed,
Raw, focussed,
With less said in quantity-volume.
Yet volume-loud turned up and shouted.

Just a few pre-occupations.
Heart focussed
On less and less
But with all the vigour
Of my fragility.

Wider scans
Frivolously treated
And enjoyed.
Cos knowing all
Becoming less.

As knowing all gets less
Knowing something stays.

When even that has gone
I hope I know you
Beyond the mind
And its constructions.
Minds may go,
And in my turn,
Just touch me, so I now know you.

All I pray
When names and words
Have gone away
Is to be touched,
Pushed, held, on my way;
So I may know you
On my way to new, ‘new life’
In being touched will be
Touched by the living bread.

After last week in hospital – a reflection

Walking through the valley
of the shadow of death

Near paranoia
Persistent fear?
Imprisoned in the
Trolley bed
By winding catheter
Entwined and
Keeping me
Totally near
The ‘infection force’;
or so it’s said.

Toxins invade
My body,
Meandering their way
Amongst my blood;
Obstructing signals
From my brain;
Inhibiting the flesh
To be awake
To gradual paralysis
As a swamping mud.

Make the pathway,
Clear a space,
The urgent task
To restore
The chance of life
‘Gainst kidney failure,
This the Challenge.
Avoid dialysis,
More give life;
Attack, attack for sure.

Delirium protects the mind
From reality
And the jaws of death.
How quickly
Can this pathway ease
And start, step by step,
To unbind?
To free the forces
Spent for health.

Hey – Fever

Hay choo!
Hay choo!
Aitch fever?
Nosing flu.
Noses blew
So disruptive,
Blame the pollen
That will do.

Is it ‘cos
The wind is new?
Catch my pollen,
Or shrink my nose,
From the gusts
Of wind that blows.
Sneezing bodily
Head to toes.
I’m sure it’s true
That that will do.

Dog sat
Beside me
Shaking head,
Snorty, snitch-y,
But his shining eyes
Don’t water.
His tail still wags,
He is free,
It’s me with nosing flu,
With hey hay fever;
The lemon sneezy
Will have to do.



Please don’t grieve

Please, please, don’t grieve before I’m dead,
Please stay, enflame our lives instead,
It’s not I wish to shrink or shirk
The anger and denial at work.

I know the prospect, time soon gone
Pre-occupies, the challenge on
Our future; hopes; still untold
With social distance, all’s on hold.

Awaken me, the time we’ve left,
Our life amidst some hopes bereft,
Shake me out of a hermit’s stance,
Ready for heaven in advance,

Please still don’t grieve before I’m dead,
Embrace vitality ahead
Remember joys; present, past;
Bring life, although the die is cast.

Deep waters run still.

Fifty years have passed
Since Darlwyne sank,
Reminding me.

We danced together
And even now
Can feel your weight

Wouldn’t call her sweet,
More explosive
In pressured times.

She feared the water,
Punting. Panic!
Screaming! On that youth group day.

I conjure fears
As the boat went down in sea.

I hope her Georgie,
Fiancée, held her
Tighter than a dance hold could.

Fifty years have passed
Since Darlwyne sank
Reminding me.

Self – sacrifice.

Why is it
That good people
Who love
Attract unjust anger?

Making selves
For stuff chucked sideways?

Why is it
Soft care,
Attract resentful hates?

Christ’s Cross?
A truth in near extreme?

Matching socks

Going up the stairs. Oh my!
Or reaching up far too high,
Remembering a number
Or drifting into slumber
Makes for challenge by and by.

Cutting toe-nails is a feat
Matching socks upon my feet?
Reading small print quite a chore
And hands a shaking even more,
But touch and taste are complete.

Still got hair, thick and strong,
So that’s a consolation;
And no one offered me a seat
On tube at Kings Cross station
Not functioning on semi automation.

Just getting old might be the explanation.