Poems of Love

You announced your arrival
on a day pre-loaded with drama
in a month surprised by blizzards.
You waved a red flag that day,
finishing with a fireworks display.
Then silence.

I come to you on foot, my arms full of gifts.
I’m eager for touch, for hugs and for kisses.
Your landmines explode, blast me to pieces.
Body parts and presents litter the street.
Wounded, I withdraw, and admit defeat.

That woman,
the one climbing out of the sinking boat
the one with blue lips in a light summer coat
the one whose life jacket does not even float.
That woman could be me.

To her, we’re just carers
Paid to look after her.
Never to be trusted.

She keeps her distance.
No touching. No hugs.
‘Soon, I’ll go home to my family.’

I was born into this world to see this:
women holding hands
with women,
with children,
with men,
as our roots intertwine

After I called you at four in the morning
and you prayed with me,
something shifted.
I called you from a place of mourning
and you stayed with me.
I had drifted,

(Bristol, England)
The tree and I have an understanding.
Neither of us can live without the other.
I breathe in the tree’s buoyant blessing
from airstream to bloodstream, a constant flow.

You are my everyday-friend, my big dividend.
You stick by me wherever I go.
You are my freedom-rider, my depression-hider.
You bring me up when I’m low.

Living doesn’t stop for death.
It takes a breath
and simply sheds
all its former overheads.

I had a private session with my guru yesterday
about a little problem that just would not go away.
I asked my guru for advice.