For Will

I watch ...

the intricate, delicate patterns of you,

the myriad, sparkling facets

of insights and gentleness.

Watching, observing, thinking ...

saying the words that I am only feeling ...

And I love you.

My Words

My Words

The words are

Choked and gagged with a fear

That paralyses and grasps and sniggers,

Fist-like.

A crowd of rushing words

Stumbling pushing shoving cramping

Jammed into a bottleneck where

Nothing can move forwards or backwards ... Stuck.

Just one has to shift and shuffle sideways, to wriggle out

To squeeze through, to escape

And to then lead the others out, slowly, one by one to

A deep breath of the future and all its possibilities.

Breathe

Tug of War

I struggle,

Twisting and pulling ...

I don't want to go there.

I am exhausted and in pain - it is futile.

I can't keep resisting the inevitability of

Years and years and years and years.

But what if ...

The rope slackens, loosens or even snaps?

Now, I can play with the time, the shapes, the possibilities ...

And what if ...

I let go?

Now that is even better!

Crucible

If I turn and look,

I may see the wake I leave behind of ...

Words,

Sighs,

Smiles,

Frowns.

Judgements and trivial comments

Swirling and washing against fragile, bruised skin.

But perhaps, if I turn and look.

I may see a crucible,

Delicate yet strong

In which profound change is taking place

As I sit and stay with you.