Just what I do

There are times in your life when you can see you really do have all the bases covered. You think, after all the trauma, the blood sweat and not a few tears of getting to this tranquil, happy place you are entitled to sit back and enjoy. But of course in your heart of hearts you know that's not the real world, that soon enough reality will turn around to bite you. And yet it hurts, oh how the unexpected hurts.



Some folk at that point will head straight for the pub and the bottle. Some take to their heels and run as fast and as far away as they can. Some close up tight, nursing it inside themselves, as secret as a baby in a mother's womb. Me, I write a poem. Stupid or what? I don't know, it's just what I do. For me the truth is not a private thing and no hurt can survive the light..











She is not here, but




Yes! I see her in unlikely places

in the kitchen, ironing, watching races

walking behind me through the tangle

to our boulder seat, our secret river,

swimming in her undies off the rocks;

cold, cold sea, hot sun, laughing

loving her dogs and loving me

(‘though these not so unlikely)




I catch the scent of her on a pillow

and on opening her wardrobe door

and in the wild flowers she picked

and the yellow chanterelle that

she found ‘neath spaghnum vivid green

and in the soft bloom of her hair

after a shower, good rub, blow dry

and why am I ashamed to cry?




In dreams, in dreams I hear her voice

soft female when she feels that way

phoning at the ending of a day

or addressing, caressing her children,

her children’s children or any

other young of any other kind.

And I want to hear her footsteps

coming home with the shopping




I touch the fabric of her clothes

and she is here again and heaven knows

I miss her so, I miss the feel of her

the feeling saying I am not alone

that flesh is flesh and is not stone:

I know that what will be will be

but love is love and she is Dee
and

still I swear that still she touches me.




And always will.







Bryan
at Kirkhill House, Aultbea

September 25th 2012

For Delia Mary in Ward 2C, Raigmore