The paint wakes me up
Jubilant white
It is not soft and sweet like rabbit
It gets under my nose
Like something isn’t right
I kept her safe
In my pocket
My little blue butterfly
Waiting to soar
The constant hum in my pocket
Her wings
Trying
Trying
I sat on the pink box
It was so cold
In the paper clothes
Too real
For me
And Alice
Time scrambled and squashed in stained sheets
We came home
Bumpety bump
In the white van
The man who was dying
Smiled at me
Something about beautiful
And lots of time left
How terrible to gobble up
Waste
The very thing he desired
I swallowed
Sicker than after the powder
The sun sank bright orange
Bigger than a penny dropping
Quieter than a bomb
I have neglected everything I am
In pursuit of everything I am not
Curious whispers Alice
I am still here
Soft in your pocket
Waiting
Waiting
Vital as a compact mirror
For when you see yourself
I lie back
Let the paint settle and the pump hum
Wipe the dust from my hands
After the whitewash.
To be white washed--to allow it for a time--is no crime, and the little things you hid are still alive and safe in the places you tucked them for safekeeping. What a tender poem, considering the silence of the bombs. Glad you made it to Midweek Motif.
ReplyDeleteThank you Susan...good to be back..though not quite fully..soon enough!
DeleteA refreshing paint on life too sometime we all need!
ReplyDeleteYes...sometimes we need to reassess to be sure...thank you Vandana
DeleteThis is beautiful, and it's good to come home. There are millions of ways to be not-you, and there is nothing wrong with a little exploration, bit sooner or later we must all come home.
ReplyDeleteYes...home is where we can find and be ourselves...strange how hard something so seemingly simple becomes so curious! Thank you Ann...am glad to be home in so many ways
DeleteWhat beautiful writing of sadness and realization. Poignant too (especially for me) was the old man in the ambulance for I felt a dig in the ribs as I read it! Your writing always touches me deeply Jae.
ReplyDeleteThank you kindly Old Egg - sadly he was a relatively young man which made me feel even more guilty...he radiated kindness and selflessness...people like that can change things..even slightly can't they x
DeleteAlice waits for you. those memories are there but you can surpass and repalce them with the good. hugs
ReplyDeleteThat sounds like a good plan..thank you Sheilagh xo
DeleteDeath is always a bomb on our lives even when we know its coming.
ReplyDeleteIt certainly is..thank you GL...
DeleteIn a word, intriguing. Very well done.
ReplyDeleteThanks very much Berowne
Deletelove your words..."I have neglected everything I am
ReplyDeleteIn pursuit of everything I am not"...that is powerful!
Thank you kindly Sandra...
Deletethat's powerful writing, wonderfully expressed through such magical words,
ReplyDeleteTrustworthy
Thank you kindly Cifar
DeleteI love the fresh white paint, everything needs a little sprucing up every once in a while….all is well, so glad you are back! It's been lonely without you!
ReplyDeleteLike fresh sheets yes! Thank you Annell
DeleteAwesome. That is the word I can think of reading this poem....
ReplyDeletesoulfully I stare at nothing
Thank you most awesomely Gautami...love your new profile photo :)
Delete