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It might be time I started
Spinning this straw into gold
Instead of hiding like
A needle in a haystack
Feeling bent and rusted
Maybe it’s time I started
Spinning straw into gold
And give myself to life
Instead of hiding from my name
It might be time to live
Under a new sky
Because I’ve been chasing these clouds
For far to long
It might be time to learn
to lay these burdens down
Its true
Shock is a state
You cross it’s borders
And wander in it for a time
Like some some nightmarish holiday
Then return home
But mourning is a season
It creeps in
While you are away
Like the heat of summer
Or the winter frosts
You must endure it
There is no rushing a season
Some days will be mild
And the clouds will be higher
Maybe the sun will shine through
Others days a storm
Will catch you out
And the torrent will leave you
Feeling empty
Eroded
Mourning is a season
I’m told
Like other seasons
It will pass
Maybe one day it will be
Something like the memory
Of that childhood summer
When it never stopped raining
I am a fearful fool
A fish dreaming of a hook
A moth yearning for the flame
Icarus has nothing on me
Even with these broken wings
I can’t shake those thoughts
Of a new sunrise
Loneliness turns me into
A latter day Narcissus
Longing to see myself
Reflected in anothers eyes
Love is a hopeful tragedy
And a refuge from ourselves
Words escape me
Maybe its the change of seasons
My pages stand like Autumn trees
Empty
Save for a few lines of withered prose
But even that is a weak metaphor
In this evergreen town
The mornings are cooler now though
Lets talk about the weather
It’s safe and polite
And right now
I’ve lost my nerve
Sometimes I laugh
When I feel like crying
Sometimes I try to feel
Nothing at all
I eat for comfort
Watch a glowing screen
For distraction
And shop
For fulfillment
But then
Sleep flees
My voice turns hoarse
Words escape me
I feel my heart harden
Like plastic
And I fear my dreams
Are no longer mine
But are sweatshop knockoffs
Imported cheap from china
I’ve always loved wings
The erratic aerobatics
Of a butterfly
Or the methodical hover and dart
Of a dragonfly
Never fails to catch my eye
But it’s birds
Soaring high on a thermal
Or gliding fast and close to the earth
That bring my heart to my mouth
And at times it seems
Almost unteather my feet from the ground
My best dreams are of flying
I have romanticized flight to mean
Peace and freedom
I wonder if tired birds
Dream of shoes
He is shuffling slowly
Back bent leaning against the wall
I’m in a hurry
Places to go
As I walk by
He calls out
Asks for help
Fear in his old eyes
He wont be able to make it
To his car without help
Broke his back recently
Osteoporosis he explains
He takes my arm and I take his shopping bag
We shuffle along
Taking rests every ten metres or so
Our journey takes fifteen minutes
To go a distance I would
Unthinkingly cover in less than two
He is shaking from pain
It only hurts when I stand up
He says
I wonder how long it took him to
Shuffle this distance by himself
And up and down the supermarket aisles
For his few supplies
I ask if he has someone who
Can do his shopping for him
He says he does
And frustration flashes across
His face
Inside I can see see
The strong man
Straight backed and hard working
Who could out walk me any day of the week
I imagine him
Getting up this morning
Thinking
Not even a broken back
Will keep me down
I’ve got places to go
The easy certainty of adolescence
Is beautiful and terrifying
New adventures are embarked upon
With the confidence of those
Who live outside mortality
Ideas are expounded in
High contrast black and white
My children can jump to conclusions
As boldly as they
Jump off that rock ledge
Into this swimming hole below
But they are not really children anymore
They have already lept from that ledge
And are yet to land in this pool below
Watching them in mid air
Hurtling towards this water
I silently pray
That they can avoid the submerged rocks
And swim strongly
It’s nothing extraordinary
But staring out of the
Cafe window this morning
The way the sun reflects off
The shining black bitumen
And the shrubs on the road divider
Cast their silouhettes
Makes me happy
It’s easy to get lost in the past
And clothe myself in loss and regret
But sometimes if
I just let my mind wander
It will find its way
And wander out of the shadows
Today I’m a lost dog
Pining for an owner
The indlugence of
A bed to myself
Can’t compensate for
Waking up alone
The waitress makes
Eye contact and smiles
When she brings my coffee
And its all I can do
Not to sit
Like a good dog
Tail wagging
Tongue lolling
Waiting for a pat
Today I’m no lone wolf
Give me a comfy sofa
And a lap to rest my head
Knowing what was coming
I took a run up
Put my head down
And hurtled through
The last few days
Like some athlete
Trying to sidestep grief
And yet here I am again
After four busy days
And nights of minimal sleep
Writing another poem to loss
The tears still came
And the dreams of course
You in your wedding dress
Looking radiant
Then
Laid out in the funeral home
I miss you so much
And I’m so mad
At you too
These days I try to make
My reckless decisions
On a smaller scale
Rather than running naively
Towards what I think is
Light at the end of the tunnel
Only to be surprised when
I’m flattened by a freight train
I will do a bit of jaywalking
On life’s streets instead
And hope I can time my dashes
That’s how I ended up
Rollin’ and tumblin’
Out of a blues gig
At a local pub
After midnight
And too much whiskey
There was a point
Where I thought about
Work in the morning
And a sensible nights sleep
But I ordered another drink instead
Because late night blues
Feeds the soul in a way
A call centre job never will
On the walk home
The moon was so bright
It cast shadows
And in the morning
I got up early and did
All those sensible things
That life requires
But with a stompbox rhythm
Beating in my chest
Sitting on a bench
In a Newtown park
In the shade of a
Brushbox tree
Leaves are falling
A bee mistakes my thumb
For a flower
And searches it
In vain for pollen
I’m looking at
An old wall
Layered thick
With Grafitti
The wall says:
‘Half of the time
We’re gone
We don’t know where”
and
‘I miss your smile’
and
‘My heart is your heart’
also
‘Aspire’
and
‘Why are lesbians angry?’
and
‘Pussy Posse’
Nearby
Toddlers play
In the playground
A tattered old man selling
Plants from a pushcart
Sits next to me
In a thick italian accent
He says:
‘We are in trouble
In this lucky country
All people care about
Anymore are bricks’
Maybe If I sat here
Under this tree
For 49 days
Letting all this
Wash over me
I would find freedom
A stray dog would come
To sleep at my feet
And I would name it Mara
If people asked who I was
I could say
‘Just call me Sid’
———-
If you don’t understand the cultural reference you can look here.
I carry a world with me
Wherever I go
The streets I walk down
Are my own
That’s why
It all feels the same
And even in this city
Far from home
I can’t hide
From sadness
There’s something about
This big old boat
That inspires hope
Maybe its being
Out on the harbour
Watching the city roll by
And seeing the wild
Sandstone headlands
Still forested
I enjoy the salty wind
And those big coils
Of nautical rope
When I was a boy
I imagined I was
An explorer and
This ferry was
Taking me to
Undiscovered lands
The last trip
A few years ago now
With her
We stood on the deck
And kissed as
We rounded the heads
And the bridge and the
Opera House came into view
We took photos
Of each other
Grinning in winter coats
It all seemed possible
This trip
It’s summer
And I’m travelling in
The opposite direction
Taking photos of seascape
I’m floating on my back
Eyes closed
Out of reach of the current
In a basalt hemmed waterhole
With the sun on my eyelids
I watch the births and deaths
Of fiery galaxies
Upstream
I hear friends laughing
Downstream
Not far
Is the waterhole
Where I first learnt to swim
I remember splashing
And kicking wildly
My mother just ahead
Calling
‘Swim to me’
But always moving away
‘Swim to me’
In relief when she stopped
I would reach
And cling to her
But want to try again
Now
I open my eyes
Draw breath
And dive under
I go deep
Kicking weightless
Through the dark
Quiet water
In search of
Things forgotten
What could I meet
Down here
But I’m no fish
My lungs burn
So I swim towards the
Faceted daylight
And come up for air
I always do
You feel so far away now
But your loss still closes in on me
I’ll go through a day numb
Playing the charade of normality
Then I’ll open a draw
And find some of your jewellery
Or let my eyes linger
Too long on a photo
And I crumble
It’s that time of year too
Eight years ago today
I woke up next to you
For the first time
And watched you sleep
While I wrote my first
Love poem to you
We were both so full of wonder
At what we had found
How did we sink so far
To our separation
Then
Your suicide
I still loved you
You still loved me
But we had made
Such a mess of things
There seemed no way back
I didn’t know that for you
There seemed no way forward
Either
If I could go back eight years
I would tell you to run
But who knows if that
Would have saved you
And where you would
Have run too
We had some good times too
I know
I have the photographs
Night time
Walking home
It’s halfway to morning
And I’m halfway to drunk
After days of rain
The stars are out
Not ready for sleep
I make a detour
Into town
Water still runs down hills
And pools in temporary lakes
Street lights and
Neon signs reflect
On the pools
Transforming the night
Into an oil slick rainbow
I feel as empty as the streets
Broken glass glints like
Tiny fallen stars
Then I look up
And laugh
Suddenly happy to be
Alone in this sleeping town
I have fooled you
I am not a man
I am a lagoon
I live between
The surf and the dunes
I walk in the the world
By day as a man
At night my waters
Ripple against
The flotsam on a sandbank
This existence was given
Long ago by
A fairytale god
As a blessing
Or a curse
I can’t remember
Which anymore
I am tidal
Sometimes I am so full
I break my banks
And invite you in
To swim
Sometimes I am left
So empty
My heart lies withered
On the sunbaked sand
For seagulls to pick
I am brackish water
And shifting sand
Fed by unseen aquifers
And endless waves
I have fooled you
I am not a man
Though I leave
Small clues like
The sand in my pockets
And the salt on my skin
Sometimes on nightfall
As the moon rises
The fish in my waters
Leap for joy
I am a lagoon
I am tidal
Don’t try and fix it
You can’t
It is so hard
Your hidden fears
Veiled as advice
Don’t make it easier
If you don’t know
What to say
Then be with me
In silence
And practice understanding
That some things in life
Are beyond us
If you have a question
Ask it
If you have a fear
Share it
Honestly
Tell me stories
Of yourself
Not of how it could be
For me
If you give me love
Don’t give it as
A remedy
Give it simply
As love
Forget claustrophobic
Desk calendars
I’ll take a hard covered
Diary with a gold embossed
Year on the front
A day to a page
365 fresh
Time stamped
New beginnings
Oh, the possibilities!
It will probably sit unused
In a desk drawer
Under a pile
Of overdue bills
But,
Think of the possibilities
Yesterday the clouds
Travelled higher in the sky
A few dropped
Lazy raindrops
As they passed
The sun looked in
And warmed life
Into a moist
Subtropical Celebration
The earth steamed
Cats sun baked
People sweated
And swam and smiled
The parrots held a party
At dusk in honour of
Such a day
If I were a seed
I might have chosen
This day to send
My first shoot
Out into the world
Fuck time!
Stop it moving
Six weeks since she died
A month since her funeral
Christmas looming
Then birthdays, anniversaries, holidays
The everyday living
Chronos you old bastard
Leave me alone
I’m not ready
You can keep your dogma
Don’t try and give it to me
You put it in a wooden box
Tie a ribbon around it
And call it spirituality
But still I can smell
The sickly sweet odour
Of rotting fruit
So you’ve got the answers
Well I never asked you
The questions
Leave me with my uncertainties
They are wild
And fertile
And beautiful
I am a pendulum
Afraid of it’s swing
A night
Afraid of it’s dark
A sun
Afraid of it’s light
A failed god
A shattered vow
A silent cry
Alone
Surrounded
This morning
I saw a snail
On the path
If I were Neruda
I would write it
An ode
Business hours
Leave your problems
At the door
In here it’s
Targets, product launches
Terms and conditions
How do I schedule grief
Into my weekly planner
It will take my mind off it
I’m told
Working is good for me
They say
But is it really
Would they say that
If they stayed with me
Through the night
And saw me sobbing
In the pre dawn hours
Dreading the day
Rebuilding the facade
Each morning
They just look at
The numb smiles
And empty banter
To reaffirm their idea
Of my recovery
Mourning has no
Key performance indicators
At night sometimes
Do you wake
To the fragile uncertainty
Of existence
Does your jaw clench
Your stomach tighten
While your mind dwells on
The impermanence of
All you love
A life anchored
Like balloons
Tugging on thin cotton threads
In the wind
Can you see its miracle
Can you feel the delicate joy
Along with the unsettling fear
Or do you crowd it out
With your new flat screen
Stainless steel appliances
And designer shoes
As for me
In the morning
I will remember
Though, I will put on
The business shirt,
The watch
And go
For now
A dream
You are still here
Living
In a little townhouse
Healthy, Calm
Peaceful
We are talking
I walk you home
There’s hope for us
You go on holiday to Germany
On your return
The two trees
In your front garden
Have been cut down
You are sad
Disappointed
In me?
It’s over
You are going
The last weeks
Have been a lesson
In the geography of loss
Any place I think to go
Your absence is already there
The bed we shared
The back verandah
Built for you
The garden you loved
Now overgrown with weeds
In town I visit cafes
Where you will
No longer sit
Walk past shops
You will no longer visit
Drive through the back streets
Where we used to park the car
To cry and fight at night
Away from the kids
And that one time
Make love
Within a two hour drive
Of this town
There is hardly
A beach or national park
That won’t wonder
Where you are
Next time I go to visit
And in our photo albums
India, Thailand, Laos
England, Scotland, Ireland
Italy, Austria, Germany
So many countries
Whole continents
Empty of you
Closer to home again
The places you lived
After you left
The towns you drove through
On the final day
The end of the empty country road
Where you lay
In the backseat of the car
And waited for the end
And the rocky outcroppings
Between two beaches
Where I scattered your ashes
This is the geography of my loss