It was better than
I thought. Much
Better, so good I
Think I’ll remember
It forever. Soft brown
Silk cracking like warm
Ice as I sink
Down, surrounded by
The softest sweetest cushion
What could be more comforting than
This? Another Krispy Kreme,
Maybe
The hawk flies higher
And higher until the
Stars become neighbours,
He weaves around them
And leaves a trail for
Us
From our cages on Earth
We look up and see
Him twinkling
You were pushed out
You were shocked out
The dry lightness surrounding
Your private thoughts.
You were clouded by
The vague memory of
Humanity in your DNA.
You are the first capitalised
Breath before language
Was known, you are
Relatively new yet you
Are closer to the truths
Than Death will ever see.
You are almost blind,
Deaf and dumb and yet
In you hums a beat that’s
In sync with mum’s, that hearts
Everything with the precarious
Infinity of seeds.
He passed away. Did he?
Surely he is here? Surely we
Will see him, hug him, be
Hugged by him again?
I believe he has not gone
He has
just left his body
And is more present, true
Present, real present, as we
Are, more. He is now more
Both deeper and lighter,
So free that he can no
Longer be
Framed in a picture.
So free that there is
Not a corner of the
Universe he has not
Reached. He has become
One and is now everywhere
We are sad because
We cannot see him, but
We can believe him and
Love him forever , as we
Did before, our dear Dumbledore, Harnaik, Arnie.
A little package of furry hunger
Scratching at the hidden
Corners of our lives, dashing
Between a fallen rice crispy
Here, a popped pumpkin seed
There, a forgotten pod of arborio
Or basmati, no longer safe behind the stove.
The little patter of complacency,
A little token from the underworld,
The wide world outside, the
World of keen smells and bendy
Eyes, scanning Nature for
Morsels of respite between the
Springs of my trap
Sorry little one, quick one
I am sorry and I hope
You find another place
To call your own, you
Are not welcome here
Sink back into Nature’s
Raw Peace
You are my something
You claim nothing
You inhabit no space
In my psyche
That is how universal
You are. You are
The very thread
Everything is made of,
I cannot
Hear you, like old
Lovers, I cannot
Feel your absence
I feel your presence
Always, amplifying
My reality.
I know they think
Less of me because
I am not seen with you
A single woman
A single human
A strange thing
A heavy thing
A pack animal
Alone.
A flat plain
An empty pan
A loose string.
And so alone we go
And it goes on and on
Like Herbie Hancock
Playing to himself,
Cooking music on his stove
Avoiding all the expected notes.
