Unlocking, seeking, push my fingers through the gap,
searching for a surface on the space that is emerging,
listening for a rhythm that the life beyond is turning,
Morning
Mourning
Passing in the crack that now chases round the birthing,
Straining to a place where the edges fight the blurring,
To prey
To pray
Holding to the difference of a heart beginning beating,
Rushing to embrace what may be only fleeting,
A piece
A peace
Ripping and shredding,
Torn from the top,
Wilfully separated,
On the altar of “Us”.
Sinfully split.
Painfully parted.
Barriers bolted and raised to the roof,
Lines strongly marked in the dust of the floor,
Cemented, constructed,
dividing, defined.
We built the walls,
we tore the flesh.
We pushed them over and slammed shut the gate!
We raised the flags.
We sang the songs.
We became us,
So they became them.
And now as we wane and struggle for breath,
We open the gates and we wave,
And we “save”.
We sure up our towers,
We repaint our walls,
We gild bright our faces,
And say, “look what we’ve got!”
I dream of contrition,
Of bloody, bent knee.
Of humble demolition,
Fading power released.
Father forgive us,
We know not what we’ve done!
When I see you,
I see the things that are me,
and I see things that aren’t.
We share so much and yet,
It is the things we don’t,
that give charge to the spark.
I often wonder why and how,
What scribed the roads you’ve walked?
What days have dawned and passed and set?
What fights you’ve left unfought?
And in the dark what spins your mind,
and weaves into your dreams?
If I could see your first light thought,
Would it reflect my own?
So when you look at me,
what image do you see?
Sometimes I almost wish I knew,
and then maybe I don’t.
If I was all of you, and you of me.
What would there be to wonder?
What would there be to seek?
How could we leap into the new,
and touch the sharp unknown?
If you and I were of one mind,
that edge would never hone.
Life would leak and seep and drain,
And fade in knowings dawn.
PICTURA POESIS 