"Space of a Year"

It's that moment

when you realise -

or fully admit to yourself -

that you've expended

so much emotional energy,

on people who might

just give you a

swiftly passing thought,

maybe once or twice

in the space of a year.

"For Other Survivors"

My soul absorbs

the pain of others.

I don't think that I

am the only one.

I feel amazed

by the strength

of others.

I feel inspired

that others survive

and shine,

and face their own

new days.

"Holding On"

It glistens, faintly silver,

on the horizon

of my mind.

Hope? Is it hope?

I don't really know.

Is it home,

my soul's true home?

The view is unclear,

and somehow,

I am still here -

still in pain -

yet, holding on, day after day.

"Another View"

There has to be a future,

although I cannot see it yet:

a peaceful place,

my own spiritual space,

some destination,

a reason

to go on.

I simply cannot see it yet.

"I Wish That I Knew"

I wish that I knew

where to go -

what to do.

I wish that I could cope.

I still cling

to these fragments of hope,

even though

I don't know what

to do -

where to go -

how to cope.

"Where Do You Hide?"

Where do you hide

from everyone, even yourself?

Where does hope still reside?

Is there anything left

inside?

Why is everything falling apart?

Where do you hide?

How can you heal

from such overwhelming pain?

Mend a broken heart?

Where do you start?

"Shattered Dreams"

The silent sanctuary

of her spirit

has shattered,

along with the essential delusions

that helped her to survive

for as long as she has.

"Didn't Really Want"

I didn’t really want to take

the "morning-after" pill.

They made me – parents, doctor.

It haunts me, still.



Being raped is enough,

when you are seventeen



and actually a virgin.

You are never clean



enough – not deep inside –

not after that.



To take control, you starve yourself,

but you still feel too fat –



and even thin feels wrong.

You turn to drink instead.



You take crap from useless blokes,

who insist on messing with your head.



You do boring office work,

pretend that you can cope –



which, of course, you don’t.

You’re dangerously low on hope.



You wonder why I wash

my hands until they bleed?



Why I "choose" the childless life?



Are my words uncomfortable for you to read?

"Neon Nights"

the pastel shades of

sunlit

afternoons

gentle breeze

reflective mood


drifting towards those

neon nights

passionately alive

hypnotised by illusion

and programmed beats

on a crowded dance floor


fading into

the fragility

of greyscale morning-after

duty

familiar pounding

repentant now

reflective mood

"Dissolve"

those final

dusky pinks

now dissolve into grey

as inspiration fades

and her last grains

of almost-hope

slip slowly, painfully

away

"Spiritual Peace" (second version of poem, with alternative wording for one line)

I find my place of spiritual peace

Again, just when I feel I never will.

There is a sense of freedom and release.

I can't know all the answers, but am still


In touch with The Divine, and that is real.

We're all connected. Life is precious, and

Life doesn't end with death. Sometimes we feel

A presence, and we come to understand


That nobody who's ever been has gone.

The spirits of the ones we've loved remain.

They will protect us - help us to go on.

There is almost a beauty in the pain.


Although sometimes I find it hard to trust,

Truth's constant. Feel the patterns in the rust.

"Unwritten, Unsent"

they tumble through my mind

the lines

as I lie here in bed

poems

at least one each

for each childhood friend

words like chords

that descend

emotions and moments

so much too much pain

captured again

the poems that will not

must not

make the dangerous

journey from my head

to a page


we're sorry

not

but your message

could not be sent

please do not try again

"Confusion"

illusions

sweet, neat delusions

strange conclusions

constant confusion

crazy

thoughts hazy

always, always in a daze, me

"My First Friend"

You were my first friend.

Your name - Helen.

One from a childhood full of Helens,

and Karens, and Claires (Clairs, Clares) -

and Lisas and Sarahs, and Michelles.


Your family lived next-door to mine,

and we would run around in each other's homes

in our little dungarees.


Then your parents took you,

and your little brother, away.

They rented out the house,

but sometimes, it would remain empty for months.

We would drop sweet papers and lolly sticks

down the gap between the fence and the shed.

Then Nicola-from-across-the-road

taught me to use

your shed as a toilet.

She said that she had your parents' permission -

but yes, I did kind of suspect...

I think that I only did it once.

I didn't really want to.


I wasn't allowed to keep in touch.

To send letters across the various

continents cost far too much,

so my parents said.

Jo and Nicola did stay in touch.

They were allowed.


When you finally came back,

years later, you had another

little brother,

who had been born abroad -

and you got along well with

Jo and Nicola,

but you weren't really interested

in me any more.

People move on, apparently -

but yet, I didn't. You did.

"Hopscotch and Cut Grass"

black tarmac alleyway

hopscotch days

a neighbourhood full

of broken tiles and bricks

and the constant temptation of chalk


constructing "houses" and dreams

from piles of cut grass

learning to be grateful for

"no hay fever"


a childhood - a lifetime -

of "forever and ever" friendships

that ultimately

would never

could never

did never

last

"So Many Ways"

so many ways

to fall apart

holistically

body, mind and soul

"Dreams and Illusions"

coloured lights

swirling

through her mind

tonight

splashes of vibrant

paint upon the night sky

upon a canvas of ebony

a night filled with dreams and illusions

which dissolve into

darkness

pure darkness and delusions

obsessions and confusion

swirling whirling

coloured lights

that dance through her mind

tonight

"Clean"

clean, uncluttered sorrow

refined


simply empty, hollow

inside

"Survival"

flowing

glowing

floating


but only just


surviving

barely surviving

"Moonlit Moments"

ancient whisper

shimmer of poetry

moonlit moments

of divine

inspiration

"Space and Away"

If you don't give people space,

you drive them away.

If you do give them space,

they just drift away,

anyway.

Some choice.


And sometimes they die.

"Fall Apart"

fall apart fall apart

for a start for a start

jaded heart jaded heart

fall apart for a start

jaded heart

"The Years"

The years

carve secret sorrows

into our hearts.

"Swirling"

swirling emotions

that won't let me rest

so dark

these thoughts and emotions

duly dragging my sanity

what's left of it

through the ultimate test

"Forget"

forget the colours you have seen

all that you claim to know

forget the places you have been

and those where you might go

forget

and let it go

"Overrated Doctrines"

Of course God doesn't have a female side.
So, was Eve really just an afterthought?
I've tried to reconcile this. How I've tried.
Was Mary not a goddess? I was taught

By Mormon missionaries, Beliefnet,
Half-hearted school teachers - whoever would
Sacrifice units of time. Still, as yet
No one religion seems as though it could

Provide the sanctuary my spirit craves -
But no-one likes me being multi-faith.
Don't want to end up popping "E" at raves.
I seek a form of Ecstasy that's safe.

Must switch my thoughts off - learn to meditate.
I've found no doctrine yet to overrate. 

"Yew Trees"

The yew trees form a boundary,

across which we'll, one day, step or stride.

Wood pigeons add their vocals

to higher rhythms, melodies -

which capture fragile memories, fading faith,

in azure skies.