The ghost of myself is haunting my life

Journey through

I am a crumbling wall.
Little flowers pockmark me.
Tiny animals inhabit in-between.
The sun shines on me.
When it rains, the drips crystallise stars, all over me.

Then a journey begins, along tiny roads.
Red shine and sheen, follow me with whispers.

Please, please, please.
Don’t leave me behind.

And in a deep green.
The tips of autumn can be seen.

Tidal poison
Time travelling
Through my great bouquet.

Held
tightly
With the beat of my love.
Held out.
Held in front of me.
For you.
To see.

But autumn is coming.
Green turns to gold.
A brief moment of riches.
A last great smile.
Light glistening
From the cheeks
Of my child.

Now,
in my own winter,
I am shivering.
But I want to be shivering.
I want to feel.
So much time has been spent.
With no feeling.

I don’t want, to be comfortable.
But I want to embrace,
my blanket, my pillow,
my baby.

Take everything off.
Get on top.
I love it.

Put everything on, me.
Hot.
Too close.

We are one.

I can just see the light through my sweat.
The wind picks up,
somewhere.
Hairs on my exposed leg are blessed.
Can I dream my way further than the window?

Hope.
Is next.

That fragility is me
I see it
I need it
How I love it

Fragile me
Fragile all
Knife,
of out
Knife,
of me

The stab,
of me
Of out
The knife
My life
Runs out
No
No

The stab of this
Of this
Life
Of my chance

I need to come home

Help is in my ocean
Help is in my hand
Help me hand
Help me

I’m rocking,
back and forth
How bad this is
drooling on my bed
So tired

Bring me back

Bring me back
Bring me back

Dead fish.
Sliding beyond me.
Headless.
Pin bones, down to ground.
Oil drenched hills.
Dark top, oiled down, to fields.

Where the mustard lies.
Where the hedges line.
And ditches,
die.

You can dig forever,
in the mud,
comes up.
Slides,
off the spade.
Slow,
black,
to darkness.

My eyes pull beautiful blades,
from the fire.
Slicing my sky.

I want to go back to my bed.

I’m boned
On my back
Take my guts out
Pull my spine, through my ribs
Hold my hand
As I struggle, to be comfortable
With this human rape
A soul pulled out
This mouth

The dust on the ground

I stare down.

But there’s a glint.

A jewel on my horizon.
The glint of a sigh.
A life that’s mine.

My glimpse of a death.

I didn’t die.

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Footprints on Holy Island

1 Comment

  1. Best Poetry Reviews

    This is your most powerful and fascinating poem I think.
    I love the unpredictable structure and pace.
    Its a hard read in places but I appreciate your honesty.
    It can’t have been easy to write.
    x

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