The Big Picture

It is strange how sometimes you reach for a thing – salvation, love, tomorrow,
Then it falls into your hand, soft-feathered like a bird, heart beating
Breath coming in shallow, timid gasps; it seems too fragile to last
But you think you know what you have and that you can make it grow
Holding onto your ideal, blinded by the certainty that you have found
The Holy Grail, the true ideal, the happiness you were seeking,
Lovingly, possessively, selfishly and uncaring you try keeping captive
The new thing, the true thing, the thing you longed to ease your soul
Forgetting that it was just a glimpse from the corners of your eye;
It was never something familiar, it was just a shadow, fleeting
Always open to misrepresentation, misinterpretation and never whole.
Still you feel you know its texture, the warp and weft of the life it lives
And with eyes that only see the part you want see, try and fool the brain
Until the day you click on the thumbnail of your certainty and then
Before your startled eyes slowly, pixel by pixel, the truth fills the frame
Gives you pause, you re-evaluate, reconsider and assimilate until when,
Reconciled to the new big picture, life as it really is, you start over again
Content that serendipity and synchronicity reflect more than just the past.

A Question of Faith

It’s strange how helplessness can enfold one
Eat into your psyche, make your mind undone
Watch those you love suffer and the inadequacy
Binds you inexorably with fetters that only you can see
Walking through mind’s dank tunnels, empty footsteps echoing
Through the forgotten corridors of confidence, slowly going
Ever closer to the point where even hope is not an option
And to that dark place inhabited only by total desolation
Now I can see how faith has always kept me from despair
And protected me from the ghosts that stand out there
Lining the path of memory, a silent cavalcade
Shouting soundlessly a litany of the mistakes I’ve made.
The near and dear for whom the owl called their name
Crowding in my memories, as I relive their loss again.

Twenty years friendship through the good times and the bad
And now it’s the inability to protect that makes me so desperately sad
When the prayers were put in motion, when the wheel spun in the air
For the person who needed them the most – prayers were not there
With all the faith in my very being I prayed for one now gone
That the outcome be for the best, that what must be, would be done
Giving insufficient thought to the fact I should pray equally for two
When I concentrated first on her, I should have turned my thoughts to you.
Prayer, which I know to be the most powerful force of healing
Was not centred on you, on the horror you were feeling
Only now when I’ve had the chance to look you in the eyes
Can I see the anguish there is more than even when a mother dies

Now the thoughts of “should have done’ turn in my mind
And the memories of things I thought I had left behind
Come back and demand a more careful scrutiny, I find
I hear the sound of my father’s voice stir like dead leaves
The sound of desperation too soft for me to hear, I wish again
For ears that can hear as clearly as they should, as if I believe
That I did not know in my heart what he tried so urgently to say
He could not go on, decided that he must let go and fade away
In the darkest corners of my mind, I turn it over, face the pain
I phoned the nursing sister; she thought he had weeks to live
Twenty minutes later he was dead and I had myself to forgive.
Two years later again a parent ill, and once again too late
My mother now unconscious, goodbyes were said to one who couldn’t wait
My brother left to switch off the machines and consign her to her fate.

How could I have forgotten the burden you would have to bear?
That the strength that could have held you was the power of prayer?
For so many before I knew I’d done the best I could at that time
Now I find I cannot accept the fact the short-sightedness was mine.
So take it out, examine both the texture and the bitter feel of blame
Dismantle ego brick by brick, layer by layer and give each its proper name
However difficult the task slowly, step by step, looking honestly, I realise
Quite how much of blame, recrimination and inadequacy is just a disguise
Ego dressed and ready to go is masquerading as compassion in my eyes
We all strive for happiness for those we love with undiluted sincerity,
But a wise monk said to me we need only to pray for strength and serenity.
I love you and tried to do the best I could while your world fell apart
Always it was you and your shelter from harm that was first in my heart
At last at peace, I let it go – you will forgive my heedlessness I know.

Going Nowhere Slowly

Once a year in spring the dry, harsh and forbidding land
Dons a cloak of many colours, takes on the mantle of the sun,
Her harsh desert laughs in the rain, her dry rivers briefly run
And swathes of gold, red and orange daisies bedeck Namaqualand
Flowers of all colours burst into bloom; cornflower blue reflects the indigo sky
Red poppies dip and dance, white petals sway in the gentle breeze
Yellow flowers bright as sunshine blossom on the Kameeldoring trees
Overhead suddenly cascades of brightly coloured birds fly
The constant call of the cicada drifts on the hazy, heat-filled day
In the whispering rivers dragonflies and frogs are at play.
The rattle of a bright scarlet locust assaults the ear
It may yet be the portent of the swarm the farmers fear.
Tread carefully – the slow and lazy puffadder lies in wait
While the happy hordes of small creatures scurry to and fro
The swift moving cobra slides regally over the damp earth
Silently, relentlessly he tracks down those that are too slow
And greedily he consumes his tasty meal, the master of their fate.
Meerkats stand in clumps of question marks watching the colourful parade
And, for a few short weeks, the veld is a riot of colour and joyful movement
Affording succour to all and a brief respite from the desert’s cruel environment
But soon the barren landscape returns, the flowers die, memories of the magic fade,
Only the relentless road remains, cresting the hills, going nowhere, slowly.

this is dedicated to my mother who instilled in me a love of the land and the beauty of nature's rich diversity. She opened my mind to the hidden beauty in the harsh, the forbidding and the cruelty of life's eternal landscape.

Rock of Ages

There's something about rocks that has always fascinated me
Silent, strong and stoically enduring the ravages of the wind and of the sea
Home to countless creatures above and below the waterline
I often wonder how many millions have they sheltered across the endless span of time.
“Rock of ages cleft for me” has always echoed in my mind.
A salute to the steadfast comfort of the rock, I find.
Giving home to living lichens, splashing pools of scarlet bright as blood
Below the sea the brown seaweed dances in the gentle waves embrace
Still the ancient rocks stand unmoving as the sea rushes at them in tides full flood
Each tiny creature finds a crack, a fissure that for them is their special place
Somewhere safe from predators and the elements when the waves roar and crash
Deep in the rock's safe arms as around them lightning and thunder crash.
Well I remember as a child when I was sad, misplaced, miserable and lonely
I would run to the strong embrace of the tallest rock on my horizon
Clamber up and at once I would feel a safe haven – something meant for me only
Refreshed, I'd leave my friend the rock, once more able to carry on
All those years ago I could well understand how the statue of the little mermaid
Was so serene and calm as she gazed out to sea for eternity, forever unafraid.
As I have passed the years of my life, some of joy, some of strife
Still to the comfort of the giant rocks when in anguish and fear I flee
They have been there to comfort me and hold me in their strong embrace
Be they rocks of sea or rocks of land, they have kept me at ease with my life
Always in the landscape they stand proud but are not a true part of the place
The rugged, inspiring giants are destined to be at heart alone, and in that, are just like me.

Done and Dusted

Yesterday I pulled out my trunk of dusty memories,
Opened the lid and shook some out to see what they held for me
Nothing seemed to take my fancy, so I tied them once again with lace
Smiling at the recollections, I softly put them back in their place
Aware that all things past and future are really present tenses
I returned to here and now and prepared to throw away the keys
Whispered to my friend the spider to spin a web both strong and true
To protect the precious treasure chest and lock away my relics of you
A fun-filled chapter filled with laughter and light as cotton candy
No need to count the cost, reminisce or keep any souvenirs handy
Back in control, the brief, delightful heady and exotic madness
Wrapped away with no regret and certainly not a trace of sadness
The present moment the only reality that one can treasure
This is where I gain my laughter and my pleasure
A fleeting memory of a song casts it's sudden shadow
Memory of what I once surmised, now how true, I know
But I shake my head and smile – that's all done and dusted
I'm back in the immediate, the only tense that can be trusted
Then I open up the page – and how's this for a laugh?
Just when the locks were turned and the key became an epitaph
To my surprise I find I've fallen in love with a photograph,
Send in the clowns indeed, shrug my shoulders – past tense ousted
And in the present tense, it will remain done and dusted.