emotional textures

Hindsight is the mosquito in the night bedroom
causing sleeplessness with the high pitched ringing
continuous, unflinching
the percolating thoughts of acid reflection
who we are, who we thought we were
my face was never a mirror to you
I had less strain, more poetic thoughts
less to remember
I had the other worldly visions of the Mediterranean
the high street of Edinburgh in icy rain
to sweep away my pain
I had high fences, easier neighbours
a tired mind, a fire burnt mind
but equally lighter visions to balance the scales
belly laughter on a lawn in summer
the birth of children to silence the voices, the haunting
ultimately I was made of a different harder material
with an ability to push away the entitled sick darkness
but you with your young kind heart
wanted to save the world.

Caves

a pusling hot
parched dry
three o clock silence
rock caves, a respite
in the baking riverbed,
thick with flies
smoking sand
nothing stirs
not even a welcome breeze guest visits
they pull themselves onto the rocks in the caves
lost in the rock face, their red water bottles betray their camouflage
like the kudus resting from the sun.

Nostalgia veneer

A past edited of events
gaping holes of tears
erased, denied, forgotten
a rock was thrown into my life lake
years and years ago
for some dark, indiscreet, sinister reason
the ripples quietly continued
across time and age
for years and years
ripples of confusion, long insomniac nights
double messages
resentment
the light now comes in,
some perfect subequatorial light,
ignoring the long dark concentric ripples, gaining size
moving across my life lake, endlessly, relentlessly.