Blanket

We lie underneath our blanket

Pale as lilies

Soft as moss

In a dream state

One step beyond sleep

In a blissful blank canvas

Ready to be painted

Drawn and savoured

We are lost

But not bored

Lying still is our favourite thing

Feeling our heads fall into the pillow 

Our hands limp 

Our feet steady

Not like when we walk

When we walk we are heavy

And sore

Each step a grinding of bones

Painful 

Unhappy 

Weighted 

Our blanket keeps us safe

Like an embrace 

A steady face

Not a smile

But an acknowledgement

Of who and what we are

Blank

And full of possibility, 

The Box

The ashes lie in the box

We put in a wet finger

Write out the words

I am sorry

I am lost 

It is a heavy message

Which flowers and blooms

A heavy paper trail

A sorry story 

We have the pang to regret 

But it is a story which will 

Follow us forever 

One we must share

But never forget 

She held my hand

I remember 

It is all a paper trail

Things we moved

Things we could forget

We are glad we have the ashes

And the box

It is a reminder

Of all things solid

And all things lost 

We will play for it forever

Pathway

Shall we choose the right way

Or the easy way

I ask

She chews her sugar lump

Each path leads to the same destination

She says proudly

Swinging her legs under the table

Happy with her answer

Fitting for Dormouse or Hatter

Everything is a riddle in this world

If we choose the right doors 

And poisons 

We will have fun

Fun is not thinking of the ending

It is about the journey 

The adventure 

She giggles

Sometimes it feels as if we will 

Be playing this game forever 

That makes me feel old and tired

Alice is so full of energy

She sparkles 

No adventure is too small

No journey pointless

I will follow and watch her

Eyes half asleep 

Body resting

I do not think excitement will ever

Be inside me again

Of course it will silly

She says

Hopping down from her chair

She is ready to follow the pathway

I rise to my feet

And follow. 

My Father, Dying

This is the story of

My father, dying

Mother holds his hand

I am too far away to reach 

We are at home

It should be soft

Instead it feels brutal 

In this moment at least 

Outside of the windows

The fields sway

They will move beyond my father

Afterwards 

It feels as if I should help

But it is a work

Outside of my endurance 

To say it is hard

Seems small 

Except it is

We all must leave

We all must have a hand to hold 

Nothing more

Nothing less

The way of the world 

The passing of life

The silence of being

Beyond reality

She is with me

I will always have her tiny hand in mine

There is a whole world of comfort in that

And as my father lies dying

I feel a relief

I feel that we will be safe. 

Pursuing The Uncanny

 

                                            Pursuing The Uncanny - Ralph Eugene Meatyard 

She is a ghost

Salt and pepper on her lips 

Hair flowing

Fingers happy 

Coated in honey and jam 

We play by the old trees

She climbs

I watch

Wish I could be nimble

Like her

The smallest things are exciting

When you are little

She giggles 

I am too tired for excitement

A cup of tea

And silence keep me happy

That and pursuing the uncanny

With her

She really is an adventurer 

So many stories and riddles

No wonder she can't stand still 

I like how her movement is captured

It feels like possibility 

A progression

I am stuck and solid

As an obelisk 

Watching 

Idle 

Dreaming 

Waiting

Always waiting

I have forgotten the colours 

But black and white is timeless

In a way

It takes us back

Makes the image sharper

The memory richer

The pursuit much clearer

The ghost made flesh. 

Second Coming

Her fingers brush my thighs

We are waiting for the second coming

What was the first she asks

Darkness and beasts 

I reply 

We sit in the cradle of our nightmares 

Stony lions 

And the revelation of words 

Is this the worst thing to happen

Or the best

Depends on the first coming

She whispers 

We hold hands

Indignant 

There is a wide desert in front of us

This is only a journey

An imagination

Of stars and moon 

We must move forward

Foot by foot

How we wish for brighter days

For the coming to arrive

And the wait to be over

We swill syllables around our mouth

Make up words

And sentences

The word

She whispers

All there is is words

Our flesh moulds into one

And we will wait

We will wait. 

Butterflies and Moths

She inhales butterflies

I exhale moths

We are spinning stories

Hungry as lions

Busy as spiders

Quiet as caterpillars

She giggles as the coloured bodies

Pass her lips

Just like candy she declares

And the wings are like a sugar crust

Moths are more like dead leaves

It is hard not to crunch them

The sun shines

We ache

For sleep

For tenderness

It will come

She whispers

It feels doubtful 

Perhaps it is already here

But we do not notice

Too busy with our games and chances

Just so

She says 

The butterflies and moths

Only visit us for the day

Tomorrow may bring 

Flowers and stars

The light fades

We let them take wing

Watch as they fly into their conclusion 

Happy that we got to share their life

If only for a moment.

Brightness

We are looking at the moon 

After rain

It stretches out before us

Like the sea 

It blows bright

Gently humming waves

Movement and stillness

Tangled up together 

Like our breath

Rising and falling 

Broken thoughts

Shining feelings

A brightness

Like the sky 

With its whispering clouds 

Slowly lapping at us

A fan of air

A moment of distillation 

A cool breeze 

A deep breath

All that we have in common with the world

We prefer the dark

The brightness hurts our eyes

And yet we must look

Be awake for a single moment

Catch the raindrops 

Bathe in the milky light 

Pale skin glowing 

Eyes dilated

We must watch 

Until the sun comes up 

And says goodbye to moon. 

Uncanny

It is uncanny how we fit together

Like peas in a pod

Or cherries on pies

She giggles

Wrapping her fingers 

Around mine

Do you think we are unusual 

She asks

Of course little Cricket

That is the best thing to be

We sit and think for a moment

The clouds move by

The heat soaks into our tired skin

Our being is uncommon

Just as it should be

Who would want to be normal

She squeals 

That would be very dull indeed

I think to myself

That it might be good to take a holiday

In normal

Just to see

To feel 

But everyone has troubles 

And foibles

I like being us

She whispers

Cutting through the dreaming 

It is uncanny how we fit together

Like peas in a pod

Or cherries on pies.