Where are you headed, at 1.52am? The birds are in their nest, suits and pencils have lain to rest.
Fitful; tossed by tomorrow some hit the clouds, their minds still terribly loud. Grasping hard for relief, desperate for some release.
Perhaps, you are a street lamp? They try so hard to be the sun, but not all can be done. The crown of hide and seek never belongs to the weak. Our shadow friends – you’ll never catch them.
Where are you going, at 1.52am?
Take me with you?
the pulp moulds
under your fever
touch – it crumbles; feeble.
seep into the folds,
rewriting the untold:
Inhale, and fill
the days past
Exhale, and peel
back to the drawing board.
Hunter Valley, Sept 2017.
I climbed a tree,
and caught it’s tears.
I drank the sunlight,
flew from my fears.
I dropped my mind,
tried picking it up – too much too heavy a fight.
I need something,
more than anything.
A higher self,
but this time,
not on your shelf.
I chased shadows and lost colour.
My battle scars aren’t for show,
No. But that doesn’t mean I’m ashamed of them.
I want to say I did it because of my hopes, not fears.
I want to know what it’s like to wake up feeling
I want to turn off the lights knowing I have given it my all.
I want to listen to the wind in the trees on my way home, and feel as light as the leaves.
I want answers to questions I shouldn’t ask.
I want to be able to open my eyes underwater, breathe with the wind in my face.
I want to know how to love you, but
I’ve got to love myself first.
I want to be enough.
That anger stems from fear, and hate is a product of hurt. Above all, it is because we love.
Hunter Valley vineyard