Poet warrior's Blog: Poems, articles and musings.

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  1. A Murder of crows on the Horizon

     

    Tears at another lover’s demise

    Tears at another dancer’s fall,

    I’ve seen

    a murder of crows on the horizon.

    Rejoicing when his palette sang of

    Sun, sky, fields and flowers

    Saddened when his palette told of

    Darkness, shadows, loneliness and despair

    I’ve seen

    a murder of crows on the horizon.

    Vibrancy to celebrate the ecstasy,

    Lassitude to mourn the agony,

    I’ve seen

    a murder of crows on the horizon

    Tears to celebrate life

    Smiles to honour death,

    I’ve seen

    a murder of crows on the horizon.

     

     

  2. A third article and a third look from a different perspective at something familiar(the other two are in the articles section). On the one hand it feels like I’m traveling scarily fast, I’ve traveled further on my path to find my joy in the past year or so than I have in the rest of my life so far and on the other hand it feels like I’m not traveling fast enough now that I can see where I want to be, where I need to be it feels as if I can touch it if I reach out.

    In case you are wondering there are still some familiar faces along the way, determined to keep me small and in the shadows. Determined to not let me fly! It would be so easy to blame others, however most of the time and energy that has been invested in keeping me in this familiar place, this prison, is mine.  All of the bricks in my prison’s walls have been crafted with a dedication and cunning that I’m ashamed to say is my work, in some ways, some of my best work. There was a time when it didn’t feel like a prison, it was familiar, comforting, safe and it kept the bad things out.

    However, through the light of self reflection and self discovery I can see that while keeping the bad things out it was also keeping me from a world of love, laughter and light and keeping my goodness in and after a while even goodness if not set free starts to stagnate and settle like a heavy fog rather than a healing breeze.

    I can also see that the walls of what was my so familiar comforting place have become the fortifications of a prison and those fortifications aren't as sturdy and strong as I expected and have done more to isolate me than keep me safe. The familiar smells have a musty tang to them. It’s time to let some light and life in.

    Dismantling the walls at first was easy, some of the bricks came away easily crumbling at my touch as I reach for them, being blown away by the new breezes, letting in light and it felt as if I was achieving something as the outside world became visible through the chinks and holes.  I felt hope in what had been a cold and dark place. I began to hear laughter and slow recognised it as mine and in the twilight gloom began to look at myself; at what I’d been, what I was and more importantly what I could be.

    Fueled by hope and the strength that I thought I could see in myself more and more of the bricks come down until I have a space through which I think I can leave this prison. It was then that I realised that as I have changed so has my prison and I’m not its only occupant. Standing in the door way is me, the man ready to step out into the world but still hiding in the shadows is me, the little boy who still believes that the prison is familiar, comfortable and safe.

    So that’s where I am me, the man wanting to step out into the world and me, the little boy hiding in the shadows waiting for someone to rescue him/me. Conversations need to begin as I believe that it isn’t possible, for me the man, to leave without me the little boy

    Questions rear their heads;  is the boy ready to trust the man, is the man ready to trust himself enough to tell them both that it’ll be OK and will they step into the world or stay in the shadows?