Go Towards the Grace in Your Heart

Follow your true feet, the pitter-patter

Of the soul incandescent bright

Tracking its true home. Grace.

Go towards the grace in your heart

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Rediscovering You

My heart is of the deepest fuchsia

It carries you – abundant, full

Homing like a pigeon

Upon that which is a ray of light –

God-soul, God-thought, always

 

You are the warmth in all corners

The staircase and twisted peak,

And you climb downwards towards

The earth’s green lap which is also you

Encircling my heart, which holds you

 

Recollections

Those were the days of…

Wisteria

Blue cotton jumpers

Naked-below-the-waist divinity

5a.m. cheesecake

Endless cups of tea

Tears and laughter

Badger rucksacks

Tattered daffodils

Stones and seashells

Hedgehog ice cream

Bumblebee no.7

Rubenstein (and/or Vimtenstein)

Dreadlocks in nipple piercings

Naked tea butlers

‘Cheers’ing grapes

10-hour phonecalls

Camellia Japonica

Silent phone kisses

Hair and so much of it!

Sweets on the thigh

Duvet warfare

Sleepless nights

First meetings

Warrior marks

Near misses

Woollen hats

Cards and letters

The state of the world

Luminescent eyes

Spontaneous innocence

Nibbled-on beards and snuffled-at ears

Love hearts and jelly beans

Canal boat epiphanies

Happily-tangled limbs

Underwear snack breaks

Mothers and Fathers

Uphill climbs

Tenacity and trepidation

Awe

Wonder

Horror

Love.

“So much love”

 

 

Conditions

If you came to me

Would I know you then?

Are we changed

By all our losses?

Or does the heart cry out

Inaudible to its other?

 

If you were here with me

Would I see you still?

Do we have other ways

Of seeing, finding, knowing?

Or does the invisible wrap us

Into plans cemented but vague?

Vague but true?

Vague but vague.

Are we right, or wrong, in all our doings?

 

 

 

 

One

He falls so far short

And yet it is all one

The sun taking petals in its light

His breath the morning dew

Upon a blade of grass

With nothing left by fall of night

 

He is so small, his gaze so bare

And yet to me

There is magic in it

Medicine, God, angels, pure –

He is all and none

He is naught but what he is

He is more