Shepherd’s Wolves

Came the executioner, gait unhesitant,

Struck the shepherd,

Vilified his name,

Scattered lambs though they remained, unscattered,

Recognising who should own the shame.

 

Sensing predator within their presence,

Flock threw off their lambskins, 

Wolves revealed,

Howled to the spirit, all great knowing,

Tended shepherd, wounds to lick, till healed,

 

Succoured to the needs of one so fallen,

Blessed his forehead, lips,

And too, his heart,

Whispered words of comfort ever known since

Hate and love drew brothers far apart.  

 

Slayer did not reckon on the wolves, clad woollen,

Nor that pack protects its own,

He did not understand,

That all conveyed by lupine leader’s actions

Subdued the wolves, contained them as meek lambs.

 

Did not see that underneath the sheepskin,

Soft as down when transformed

By love’s skill

Wolves, armed to teeth with rocks and slingshots, justly

Sacrifice the giant who mars god’s will.

 

Love between the shepherd and the wolf pack,

Born of trust, example,

Sacrifice,

Know the truth, though hidden in the rhetoric,

Taught the truth, they filter through the lies.

Weathervane

Times, there are,

When life takes on new meaning,

When galvanising action begs its turn,

When weathervanes rotate in new direction,

Heralding of storms and change to come.

Times, there are,

When cockerel crows a new tune,

Breaks the dawn with cries of harmony,

Resists the squalls, lengthens neck and fills lungs,

Calls to coop and land to rise anew, as free.

Times, there are,

When life holds up a mirror,

Questions what you see, what you believe,

Forces venial vanity to take stock,

‘Who is fairest, who in land is thief?’

Times, there are,

When pride and proud must bow down,

Listen to the chorus sung afresh,

Consider days ahead, not merely morning,

One with clouds of change, winds’ altered breath.

 

Troupers

The roles people play,

I play one too,

Many roles, in fact,

Not all portrayed,

Masks are donned for some,

How else to answer

Peace at any price,

All done and said?

Truth emerges,

Questions asked and answered,

Not all liked by all,

We are afraid,

Unanswered some,

Unquestioned yet, though pending,

Live with truth or

Die with fears instead.

Oh, the roles that we all play

Stretch out before us,

Past to present,

Now to future, splayed

As diagram and map,

Roads merge and fork still,

Winding on, unravelled,

Paused, waylaid.

The roles people play,

We see right through them,

Dislike the truth

And fear what must be said,

Masks removed, hand on heart, with courage,

Enacted life,

All roles, with fearless action, played.

Separated roles,

Each formed in passage,

Each demanding search,

A price be paid,

Purse in hand, tolls to meet on journey,

Troupers, enrolled in life,

Sets moved, stage laid.

45+ Hearts Afire

Dig them up

And dust them down,

The relics,

Hearts exhumed

From passion,

Buried deep.

Guard them well,

Protect them,

Arms surrounded,

Stolen once,

Returned,

Ours birthed to keep

Flame still burning,

Flaring,

Burning brighter,

Hearts afire,

Action,

Growth anew,

Buried not,

No fear,

We’re here,

We’re stronger,

45+

Treasured,

Holding true.

 

Through the Eyes of Love

I have a sister.

I have two actually.

But the one I will speak of is Veronica.

One year and nine months separate our life on this planet.

She is a cow, bitch, fecker, a bugger, a sod!

I cannot think of enough words to describe the blasphemous relationship that blesses my life every day.

No one I know tells it like it is.

No one I know knows me like she does.

No one I know loves me as she does.

No one.

She blesses me with curses and calls my life constantly into question.

She supports me in every part of who I am. And has been formative in creating who I am.

She is younger than me but has been my elder sister on every occasion when I have needed an older sis.

She makes me laugh like no one makes me laugh.

The two of us together sound like Macbeth’s three visionaries rolled into one, on speed.

I love her with every fibre of my soul.

And I know she loves me in the same way.

Nothing I could ever do would surprise her.

Nothing I could ever say would shock her.

But she shocks the fuck out of me day and daily.

Tonight I spent some glorious hours in her presence feeding on the soul of one who gives as the reason for her existence. I supped on humour and wisdom. I blessed the day my mum and dad bestowed the gift of her life on me.

 

(Right, bitch-face, cow, bugger of all buggeries, don’t get too glorified in my praise of you!)

Well, ok, enjoy.

I never tell you enough. I never know, from moment to moment, how you will surprise and delight my sensibilities.

 

But.

When my sister tells me to ‘get to fuck that picture you posted off of WP and FB because you look like how you will twenty years from now’ I have to take notice.

Apparently, my perception of self is well-squiffed. I thought I looked ok. Fuck, I wasn’t going to post an ugly one.

According to sis, my personality, humour, every aspect of my soul was missing. In essence, the pic was not me.

It caught a plastic moment in time.

It spoke nothing of me.

When someone whose opinion holds as much sway as my own, tells me truths that must be known and observed through new eyes, I listen.

Incapable, it seems, of seeing myself as others see me, I am deleting my image until someone- Veronica- says I have captured my soul in an image.

For it is my soul I wish to convey here and anything that gives the lie to that will be obliterated, found wanting and must be dependent on the eyes of those who see me better than myself.

Through the eyes of love I know and have always understood that those who love me know me better than I know myself.

I love and bless those in my life who nourish and cherish me, who make me face truths, who question my perceptions.

And if any photo makes me look 20 years older than I am, I’m getting that right to fuck!

Time and Tides

Seeping into pores,

Now joined with heartbeat,

Blood of oneness,

Child of globe, be blessed,

Ones communing,

Now alive in union,

Hear the whispers

Rising on the crest.

Undulating waves,

In tune with moonlight,

Tides of rapture,

Oceans spilling to the shores, decreed,

Blood and water,

Time and tides united,

Bands of brothers, sisters

Know they’re freed.

Lid Flickers

I close my eyes easily…

A drift of my lids to all dreams…

No slumber, mere silent communion, where

Nothing appears as it seems…

Where ease is no burden, no offering

To idleness, no easy aspire,

No guarantee of all happiness

But freedom to seek out desire…

No moments of misery for any,

For one, not even a few,

Not licence but liberty needed

To seek, to fulfil what is due…

From purpose for lonely existence,

Entrenching the cause of a soul,

Harnessed to physics and chemistry,

Released on completion of goal…

I close my eyes easily…

Awaken…

All of life but a dream,

Perception

One moment’s causation,

Light flickered…gone…never seen…