Instructions for burial...
Burial Rites
Lay me down, deep in the dark brown
Under the sun-spilt sky,
Wind will caress the soft earth over me,
Rain rinse the dust and grime.
Shroud me with fresh tumbles of flowers,
Floral funeral pyre,
Vibrant rose-gold, blue-bold, ochre-gild,
Cascade of scented fire.
Sow on my six-foot meadow, wild herbs,
Speedwell Trefoil, Wild Thyme,
Paint the green turf with primary colours,
Deep-rooted they’re soon mine.
Sing me an anthem, sing of the morning,
Flaming gold flowering fire,
Soft in the mid-light, dew-mists releasing
Bride-blush tint of the sky.
Lay me down, deep in the dark brown,
Wreathed in herbs and rich grass,
Birdsong lulls this garden to sleeping,
Song and perfume to last.
(Published in "Traveller's Moon"
Aural Images 1997)
Dying
Sometime
Dying comes
Breathing stops
Heartbeat fades away.
You look at me a moment
Receding, watching into another dimension
Of time’s eternity.
Suddenly, I remember all unspoken thoughts –
But it is the end of speech.
We will converse no more together.
Graveyards
Graveyards
Green tousled, square-pocked garden of the church
Under grey-laden, cloud-streaming sky.
Thinking of you, torn asunder,
Leaving me forlorn.
Two minds meet together, yielded melted,
Two souls striving for unity,
Two bodies divided by transparent air,
Each irretrievable.
How my mind yearns to find
He, who can catch hold of that idea,
Tossed into the air by my thoughts,
And make it something tangible.
How my uncompleted soul yearns to be
Unified with another twin’s half,
Who, having the remainder of the gifts I lack,
Creates entirety.
How my body aches to be lost
To all-compelling Lordship,
Powerful gentleness, insistent thoughtfulness,
Joining, establishing life’s onward flow.
One heartbeat, one breath, one eye,
To behold this creation in one unique way.
This self sufficient half-person
Bereaved of fulfilment, oxygen deficient,
Cannot communicate to this world,
But lives a secret life within,
A semi-tranced hypnotic world of needs and desires,
Repleted by dreams.
Outside shell intact, smiling at the people.
For my three children
Child
Such a paradox
A complex personality driven by need,
For love: a desperate craving,
Never fulfilled, to be esteemed the highest
In another’s regard,
The female, Mother, Grandmother.
The soft features drop,
Pouting lip steps out forming
A precipice around which hot saline drops form
Rivulets, tributaries, an estuary.
Tidal tears soon leave
Damp cheeks washed bare.
Eyes gleam with mischievous humour,
“Kiss,” ” Love and love,”
Arms tightly clasped, nearly strangle,
Tumble together in a waterfall of
Sparkling laughter,
Roll in a deep pool of forgetfulness.
Age forgets age.
An eternity of blood imparted to embryo,
Mother looking out of daughter’s eyes
Behold Grandmother’s determination.
Timbre of voice and mannerism,
Arch of surprised eyebrow, widening eyes,
Bequeathed daily.
All that I am, I give to you, my other self.
Not only I, but partner too,
And a wealth of unknown heritage.
Two make one, and, when cut apart,
By life-giving scalpel,
This individual gasps and struggles
Hungry for its life, sucks in air, then milk
And smells the intimate perfume of
Nurturing, enveloping, unremitting love.
Time brings a second scalpel
To sever the bands of dependency.
Year on year layers experience and knowledge,
Each strata compressed but never lost,
Superimposed and shot through
Emotions rage and wield a sword
To slice a Mother’s heart to pieces.
Let you go, you innocent
Desecrated by Eve’ s wilfulness
Survive you might, until the end,
Where I precede, and find that otherland.
The East Wind’s Fury
The East wind’s fury
Blasting air borne sea spray inland,
Whips round houses, churches, trees,
Lashes boughs,
Detonates rain against windows
And vehemently rumbles doorways.
Elemental anger, void of emotion.
My anger is reasonable to me.
A fearsome indignation
Becomes a deep-rooted quest for righteousness.
Conversation lacking, no-one hearing,
Breaks into a squall and
Left to simmer,
Forms a hurricane.
What is my life,
And on what foundation built?
Am I owned, controlled,
Or do I have a thought, mind, will, desire?
Seems not.
He earns the money
(No freedom at work)
To pay for me (and the children) to live.
So I obediently make my days and nights
In the confines of the house
To do the things expected
Regularly, properly, quietly,
All day, every day,
No Sabbath Rest
No Sabbath Rest.
When I say my say, and say it twice, and not be heard,
And then hear, “What? In reply and say my say again for it to be ignored,
I shout and scream eventually.
Best to write a letter and have it
Disagreed with, then repudiated.
The guilt, creeps insidiously up
From feet to crown
Gnaws my heart and
Bitter tears weep inward
Showing only a dull and sullen face.
He has bought me heart, mind and soul
When I promised to obey, and gave up
Me, Life, Work, to bear his children.
So one must not scream and shout,
But be on best behaviour,
Give a smile of welcome
When he comes in late, and must go out again.
What do we have then?
Marriage in name, and a
United Front to face the world.
Two minutes in the morning,
The “News at Nine” when tired out,
Odd days, and this invention,
“The Summer Holiday” where all can relax
And enjoy family.
The North Wind brings its cleansing cold,
To disinfect the earth with frost and snow.
The Southern air brings high-pressured warmth,
For mankind to breathe relieved.
The West Wind drops its sea-fret
On the Pennines, yet is deceitful in its variation.
But the East Wind is a wily brute,
Ferocious and destructive.
My anger is ferocious and destructive
Creates salty rivers from flooding seas,
Beats against immovable situations,
Uproots people’s satisfied stability,
Sodden grief for some naivety lost.
My anger is reasonable to me.
Yesterday is a memory
Yesterday is a memory,
Perfume sweet as a trapped flower
Smelling of full bloom.
Or, in another mood,
Dark frightening hole
In the gloomy deep of the mind.
And what is tomorrow if not a dream,
Unfulfilled expectancy.
A hope of hopes – what might be,
Afraid I see another route,
Uncontrolled by me,
Changes Dream to what should be.
Only today is living.
Rich in unique experience,
Leave memory silent and
Keep this moment precious –
Gold glint on white finger –
Or tomorrow’s jewel wil pass us by.
(Published in "And God Created Woman"
Aural Images 1997)
For my parents - John & Anne Fox
This huge debt…
This huge debt I have incurred
And cannot pay back,
But go on receiving.
A debt of love, nurture, time, teaching –
How many hours have been spent fulfilling me?
And still continues, a vortex
Into which you pour your love.
A fine homespun thread of silk
Binds you to me,
A weft of soft wool ties you
To my children,
My debt I transfer and payment make;
I give myself to my own.
For my parents...mountaineers!
Mountains
We love the mountains,
The purest air,
Glorious jewel-bright flowers in the sheep-shorn turf.
An arduous climb, fast breathing, pulse quickening,
Fertile farming valley floor, woodland stream, waterfall,
Break out above the tree tangled mist
To clear blue sun-filled mountain shoulder.
Cairn in sight –
The reward: an expansive world
Of valleys, mountainous crags, lakes and streams,
The permimeter, maybe, the sea.
To climb this mountain and keep on climbing,
Until we reach the farthest cairn,
That peaks in heaven’s otherworld,
Seems right to me.
For my Dad - John Fox
Music
Music takes us half way to heaven
Releasing the mind to imagination’s other realm
Bourne in a fugal stream which wraps around
And deposits us back on cadential solidity.
Too easy to mistake music’s sea for
Scientific reality.
Old Man
Old man, why sit so still
Searching the horizon of ocean’s waves,
Out to the sail-boat, glitter – speed
And fly across the surface sea?
Why do you look heavenward
To the seabird, plummet, glide,
Over hills and vales of this water world?
And what do you see
In the sandy, murky, week-hung depths
Of ocean world?
Old tramp, sitting statue still,
Smoking rings from an ancient pipe.
Floating to another world,
Fortune, fantasy, far-off dream.
Oh, to be so alone.
Old man, why do you gaze so far,
So high, so deep.
Are you searching for life,
Searching for living,
Or are you lost in eternity.
Old man, time waits and is still,
In your intimate world.
Eternal
You I give my twilight
You I give my dawning
Molten gold resplendent
Softens into gloaming
Journey into dusk’s night
Ebbing sunlight gleaming
Cold night’s fire the starlight
Flicker in the shining
Lambent fire unfurling.
Child with me at twilight
Old-age born at dawning
Glowing in God’s great light
Refined in new morning.
Parallel prayer
Parallel prayer to a God called Man
We can do, and we can achieve,
Clever in a fallacy,
Man to rule the earth.
Which man? Him or me?
Or to Destruction must we go
So no man has a privilege.
Push aside a Man called God,
Unimportant history,
Live for self, dying birth,
Breath and life last an instant.
Why think on future tomorrows
When all we have to fight about is
Now.