Reflections, Past and Present

Nowhere - Sunday, January 23, 2005

I met a friend the other day

As I did my power walk along the bay.

She walked toward me arm in tow

With her second, third, or fourth,

Husband, partner, friend; I don’t know.

She met me with firm recognition.

I welcomed her with all the same tradition,

Of family and friends,

Of existing ties,

Of ordinary lives.

She asked me where I have been hiding,

Where have I been?

And I answered safely, “Nowhere”.

I do not tell her where I have been hiding.

I have been to a place

Where a fleeting touch

Erupts into a fully fledged affair.

Where the sound of a voice

Is more precious

than words said

sweeter and more delicious

for what is not said.

Where the dream is more reality

Than one can hope for, yet hope

has its own measure of cruelty.

To have is to destroy the dream

To dream is to have the hope.

Now the corpse is limp

The passion spent

The pain fading

And I stand, talking

To my friend and say “Nowhere”.

How could I tell her,

“Love and back”

“From fullness to emptiness”

Safer to reply “Nowhere”.

Reflections

I miss

The bend in the river

The cliffs

The leaden heat

The furnace blazing

The river

The stillness

The coolness

The fearless heart

The sneering of the crows

The cracking of the bark.

The depth of the river

The strength of the current

The silent treachery

The struggle for air

The weakness of limbs

The resolution

The final kick

Sand beneath my feet.

Coffee 22/12/04

Coffee insinuates a welcome

In the morning,

Day begun

Coffee ever the patient lover

Waiting, reminiscing

Chances never taken, risking

days that never happened

disasters narrowly missed

a half held moment languishes

A long slow warm embrace

As hands encompass cup.

All is held in sweet abeyance

As the coffee meets my lips.

The stalker.

I want to touch and feel

the softness of new love again,

slippery emotions sliding over

and into my heart,

disappearing into flaccid memory.

Revived and relived,

vicariously, soullessly

It is never enough.

I am the serial offender of my own imagination

Desiring the passion and thrill of this secret heart

this falling in love over and over again.

I remain a covert voyeur

stalking my own emptiness.

Hiding from my ambiguity,

maintaining the assembly of normality.

At the airport 22/12/04

At the airport

Planes leaving and arriving

The dearly departed

welcomed home

with warm embrace and tears.

I am waiting at the coffee shop

As always

Yours

alone.
The Border
If I open the border of my heart
would you apply
for a visa
take a holiday
a trip
enter
as a tourist.

Embrace the strangeness
Look for keepsakes
Mementoes

Stand in transitory awe
Inspired
transfixed
by the splendour of my giving
leaving
suddenly
carelessly
moving on to take
some fresh experience.

Leaving me
tucked
away
a slide show
a dusty yellow box
holding
faded memories.

Could you take up
Citizenship
Permanent residency
live out your years
in the realm of my soul
holding court and favour
a ruling consort .

An empire of two.

I stand
on the border of your heart
a refugee,
asylum seeker,
queue jumper,
stateless,
waiting.