Return

she called out
She realigned the stars
She longed for legacy
She lined up her heartache
And asked me
Can we please go home?

The roads of regret wash themselves in the rain
They are the same, washed, maybe cleaner
They belong to her,
Her kingdom has been made of new grindstone
Her heart has held soldiers
She is history informing memory,
Whispering, I know the ridge of sunset
I stay.

Defence

The prison of the mind
Has no fortress or impenetrable walls
No circulating guards
This prison, far more subtle
Traps the dreams quietly in the night
This prison calls the daylight, fades the sun
Escape is a breakthrough image
A hadeda calls, breaks the silence
Like thunder precedes the storm
The dreams gain an ally, a defendant
Quietly in the night, they are liberated.

Crucible

The glance in the review mirror
no longer blinds vision
those hindsight hills are no longer a nemesis
they fade, the dust settles
my stone heart breaks into fragments,
fragments turn to gold
in the failing light
the resurrection of starlight shines.

Muted

my senses are slowly muted by the heat
movements decrease, mind images brighten
senses move like wind through the shaded leaves
familiar scents, reawakening a smile,
thoughts trace back to a source
happier colours, warmth.

Shadow

She was their titanium mother
driving through mud pools, fearlessly laughing
she was their pillar, finding joy through rain
through long winter nights,
keeping watch over their their animal dreams

Then the light became to strong
the sun shone too long
their eyes reflect her vacuum
their doubt makes listless laughter
on never-ending days of house arrest
they look towards their newly weakened mother
moving slowly, distracted by muted sounds and fog

hoping for a reminder of her heart, once diamond cut
they hesitate, and walk back to their room, quietly
fearing the heavy shadow she pulls now.

Human

the mind has rooms,
moods and maps
quantifiers of the psyche
an emotional disconnect
between the light and life
a dog chasing tail
a lonely diatribe.

still life

dusty tired optimistic Christmas lights
line the empty streets
an art exhibition life
my chapters are paintings
along the walls
watercolour moments
memories in paintbrush strokes
themed by the curator
dark days, light breaks through,
strange and new