I used to know you

When did I let it slide?

When did it pass me by?

I keep thinking about it -

can't stop thinking about it -

you were there, then you were gone,

and it's not like it went wrong

in fact, it went well,

and did for me as well.

 

So I think of you now

in Japan, and how

you've surely got 2 sons

let's call them Meridian and London,

because I can't imagine

you calling them anything else.

And your dogs, and the weird parrot you inherited

from your husband's best friend's next door neighbour's cousin-

the parrot that poops on everyone but London.

And I wonder what it was like for you during lockdown

and would you get my joke about Blue with their system up and the top down?

And that time you were driving and we talked about things I'd never say to anyone else,

and oh, I know, I guess I really do need help

if I'm still thinking about this now and...

how long has it been? Nearly ten years,

but it's just whizzed past in a blur.

I doubt I'll ever see you again

and if I did would I even know who you are now?

It's been too long,

surely it's been way too long.

So I'll stay, sitting here, trying to figure out when the end had its start

because I used to know you, but then we grew apart.

Covid Insecure

I look on you with envy

as you laugh with your friends 

at a beer garden, freezing,

as the rain descends.

I know you won’t strip bare

when you get back home, 

throw clothes in the washer, 

shower, scrub, once alone.

I know your hand won’t feel dirty

when it touches that glass,

your lips uncontaminated

as your mind rests on what’s passed.

All the memories unmade,

maybe the job you’ve lost too-

things have been hard-

relief too good to be true.

And I know you deserve it

but what causes me pain

is I also feel that I’ve earned it...

but when will I do this again?

When will I stand next to you

and not feel in distress,

almost feeling germs land on me

with each exhale of your breath?

When will I hop on a bus

and feel completely at ease

sitting next to another,

windows closed, not a breeze?

When will I walk once more

through a busy high street,

happy, close to so many,

a hop and skip in my feet?

When will I sing again

and when will I dance

at a busy club, pub or party?

Oh if only I’d chance!

My life stripped away

to its very bare bones,

I sit here and wonder

how to undo everything I’ve known

for over a year, 

spent learning new habits, 

fighting with my mind

yet I’ve still to fathom it.

When the government announces

“the end of restrictions”

(I’ve burned for this moment

that I almost thought fiction)

how do I recover as swiftly as you?

I know I need to start ahead of time

but I don’t have a clue!

It’s going to take months

and I’m going to frustrate you,

look on me with patience,

it’s now that I need you.

I’m still that social butterfly,

but wilting inside,

locked in a cocoon,

I’ve regressed over time.

But I’m itching to get back

to a busy, packed social life,

to plan my big wedding,

start the next chapter as a wife.

What was Once Classed as Daily

is now Obviously a Cause of Discomfort,

and me and my Oh Could Do

Oh would do

Oh long to!

Oh once knew!

Will dance together

forever,

until One Clear Day

when I teach him the steps.

But until then...

I look on you with envy.

Boxes

Right now, I live in a box
and so do you, and you, and you, and you.
We've become mime artists...
it's as true as Spandau Ballet's True.
We might not be able to break the fourth wall of Zoom,
but there is this really cool trick you can do
where you can kind of make it look like you're holding hands
or throwing things to each other,
but understand,
that if you really do throw that bottle of wine at the wall,
it's just gonna smash. (That's why you're meant to use toilet roll.)

But what kind of things can you do in a box?
Jonathan Van Ness married a couple from his box.
Gary Barlow did a few duets from his box.
You can virtual date,
you can try your hand at yoga,
do a status update,
or learn to speak like Yoda.
We thought a box would restrict
but boxes can be big,
can fit so much in,
that it's kinda uplifting.

We might be in boxes,
but we're never boxed in,
the walls are see-through,
that's why we're still talking.
We can break walls down
when the bricks can't be found,
because they're not so heavy
when you don't carry them around.

So for all I said we're all in boxes,
not all of these have straight edges.
We don't conform to a Zoom shaped oblong,
and if you feel like it's been so long
since you saw your face
in an alternative shape,
be assured
your individuality is preserved;
these boxes have curves.

The fact is that these boxes all fit together,
we're not round pegs in square holes,
but something much better,
from a bird's eye view, looking down to the floor,
our pieces are connected, just like a jigsaw.

So if you ever feel alone in your box,
just remember that your piece interlocks
with another, which in turn connects to another,
all of us can reach out,
and do more from our box,
than we'd ever discovered.

Trapped in a Book

Imagine if you woke up
in your favourite book,
would you take the side lines
afraid you might mess up
the plot line so delicate,
so intricately written?
Would that convince you somehow to stay hidden?
Or perhaps you'd be eager to push your way
into the inner circle like Dan Humphrey?
Maybe you'd have your own story or something,
taking place in the backdrop of your favourite setting?

But what if your favourite story is horror?
Would you want to be involved in that drama?
Would you feel the fear more acutely in the dark of the shadows,
without the safety net of being at home, hugging your pillow?
In a love triangle would you make it a square?
Trying to be a bystander but unaware
that the eyes of the protagonist are staring at you
when they really should be staring through!

Oh the possibilities that present when you live in a story
you've read thousands of times over, so you don't need to worry,
you know how everything is going to end,
you'll marry him, or her, or win over that friend,
the enemy will die, or both lovers perhaps will,
but that's okay, you could prepare for that ill.

Well, one day, somehow, we all woke up
only we weren't living in our favourite book,
but had stumbled into science fiction,
as easily as walking to our kitchen.
A daily walk,
or maybe a run,
cancellation station,
virtual fun.
2 metre gaps,
queues for miles out the shop,
elderly inside,
behind doors firmly locked.
Restaurants, bars, shops closed,
seasons change as we stare out the window.
Protection,
hand gel,
infection,
trying to keep well,
panic buyers,
I'll trade you loo roll for pasta,
garage stocked up won't get us through any faster.

Suddenly we're in history,
suddenly, it happened so suddenly,
trapped by social distance or anxiety?
Or OCD?
Or trapped with me?
And usually,
I dance my way out,
of trouble, worry, or doubt.
But no-one has ever been here before,
no-one knows what works yet or
what's the best thing to do
when life as you knew
has upped and left
you alone and bereft. 

What's worse is that it occurs to me,
and again it happens suddenly,
that no-one will ever write a book
about the 30-something who took one look
out the window during lockdown
and decided not to drown
in the social silence
so replaced it with the sound
of old-school retro songs
from the days of her youth
and let her body take her
to some place new!
Every move an ode to the days long past,
days that I wish right now I could have back;
when outside wasn't scary,
and no sanitizer, no worries,
and a supermarket delivery slot
was ten to a penny.

So maybe I'm not making history,
but since I'm in this sci-fi
I'm not gonna let this pass me by.
Time to write,
to sing,
to dance,
to talk,
to laugh,
to clean,
to Skype,
to Zoom (whatever that is)
to move my feet,
refuse to miss a beat.
And if no-one is going to write my story,
then I won't admit defeat...
I'll just write this poem instead.

❤️ In loving memory of Liliana Grace ❤️

One day, a few moons before this,

you were just a dream, a wish, 

a prayer flying free at the break of dawn;

a yearning heart in the early morn.

And then one day, a time or two ago,

you became a realised hope,

and postponed plans didn’t stop your spirit,

eyes on a life, and ready to live it!

I saw strength beyond compare

when you returned from doctors’ care,

thawed out and ready for your new home,

a warm, safe place to call your own.

So you were safely transferred there, 

and clung on, breathing your Mummy’s air,

you grew and refused to give in,

bloomed and kept on blossoming.

And even before we saw your face,

we knew you were Liliana Grace,

and no matter what would come your way,

you’d overcome obstacles every day.

Crafted carefully,

perfectly formed,

soon you were a baby soft and warm,

and decided it was time to meet your family 

even if a little too early!

I can’t tell you how loved you are,

your very existence a shining star,

you put a smile on everyone’s lips,

whenever they saw you, it was pure bliss.

Your Mummy and Daddy were besotted before first sight,

you became their beam of light

in the darkness of a cruel, harsh world,

too cruel and harsh for such a sweet girl.

Your journey had not been an easy one,

and even on arrival, the struggles went on,

but you proved yourself to be the strongest of fighters

defying even the belief of the doctors!

And every time I saw you in that cot,

body shaking with every breath that you took,

I couldn’t help but be strengthened by you;

your resilience and bravery shining through.

It wasn’t long before your parents declared,

her strength is unparalleled, can’t be compared,

with both beauty and spirit defying what we expect

she is, of course, our warrior princess.

And that is why when you had no fight left,

when we had to watch you take your very last breath,

there was nothing at all that could be said

to fill the gaping hole that your presence left.

Never before has someone so tiny,

proved themselves to be so very mighty,

and if any of us have an iota of you

within our hearts then we’ll somehow pull through...

Because now you are the strength in our hearts,

we are changed people, though broken in parts,

inspired by way that you lived your short life,

and  saddened to watch you to heaven take flight.

But we’ll never forget your ballerina toes,

your very long fingers, your cute button nose,

and I’m so thankful that you fell from above

because now I know the real meaning of love.

Men don't wait in line for root vegetables

What if I'm not where I'm meant to be?
What if I've veered off course?
What if I did the wrong thing
and am moving away from the Source?
How could I be so stupid?
What on earth am I going to do next?
I can't make sense of my feelings;
I'm stressed, at a loss, and I'm vexed.

So I stand up
and I sit down
and I stand up
and I pace round,
and then I catch sight of my reflection
and my thoughts are consumed by a barrage of questions:-

What if my skin is melting off my body?
(Bizarre, who's ever thought that before?)
What if my body is carrot shaped?
(Okay, seriously, will you think less weird thoughts, I implore?)
Why do my arms have those bumps on them?
(Everyone knows
that they're just your elbows!)
Why am I asking all these questions?
(It's where your mind goes
when it's left on its own.)

So I sit down
and I stand up
and I pace a little bit.
My mind is everywhere
all at once
and won't put a sock in it!

Impatient for answers,
I'd dance, but my back hurts,
but why does my back hurt?
I'm only 31, not 41,
but hang on,
where's the time gone?
It doesn't seem that long ago
that I was 2-0
and now it's 2-0-1-9
and it doesn't feel fine
and I remember the time
my mum promised a line
of men at my door,
eager to snap up
the opportunity
to be with me
but, wait a sec, I don't see how that could add up
because no-one wants to date you when you look like a carrot!

So I sit down again -
why's this now about men?
Who cares about them?
'What if-' this,
'What if-' that,
you can do so much better than that!
Didn't a wise person once say,
"Any question that starts with 'what if' is a stupid one."?
- wasn't that you just the other day?

Your mind's like a ship
that's gone adrift
and if I may quote Taylor Swift,
"You need to calm down"
breathe in, and breathe out.
Whenever in doubt;
when you don't know,
remember you know
the One who knows.
He won't leave you behind
or stuck in your mind,
drop your burden at His feet
and know you are complete,
strengthened in His presence,
even when feeling weak,
(even when you spent all night laying awake
worrying that you might be carrot shaped!)

Just don't ever give up
because God is your compass,
lighting your way
so you won't go astray,
and never live in fear of making a mistake,
because if God is for you, then what can come against?

So, whether you really did miss your cue,
or anxiety is just tormenting you,
you can breathe a sigh of relief - phew! -
because God will never leave you, nor forsake you.





PS If you really are carrot shaped then God made you like that, so don't worry about it! :)

Who am I?

I’ve lost 5% battery refreshing this blank page,

I waited and waited, what seemed like an age,

hoping for some inspiration to appear,

but nope, it looks like nothing’s here.

But I have to write something

because that’s my thing! 

And if I don’t have that...what do I have?

I stayed committed to my role the night through,

because I guess that’s what I feel I must do;

music and disco lights call me to the floor,

I’m pulling shapes I never knew I had before!

But I have to dance continuously, no break in my swing,

because that’s who I am, and that’s my whole thing!

And if I don’t have that...what do I have?

I couldn’t change one thing about me physically,

because this is exactly the height l ought to be -

even if I wanted to know how it felt to be tall,

to never need an alteration for my dress to the ball

(I’ll be honest, I’m still waiting for my invite)

I know a growth spurt just wouldn’t feel right!

Because I’m small and that’s my thing,

and if I don’t have that, do I have anything?

I thought I had this whole thing worked out,

I knew what my thing was without one shred of doubt,

but then I kept adding,

and then I kept changing,

and did you know that you can’t stop this ageing?

And so before I knew where I was

I had more ‘things’ than I thought anyone could.

I make up sayings like “barrel of confusion”

or spend my whole life misusing them,

so “more money than you can shake a stick at”

becomes “that’s a lot of pennies I wouldn’t shake a stick at”.

Or apparently my other thing is making friends,

or being the one who just can’t shut up on the train.

I’m the one who made a musical,

the one who’s always singing,

the one with a project,

the one who lives for living,

the one who signs off her messages with ten thousand kisses,

the one who doesn’t know what the problem with this is.

The one who loves Prince,

the one who loves Troye,

the one who loves a mike,

and I don’t mean a boy!

The one who’s too comfortable in front of a camera,

the one dreaming of a podcast where she is the anchor.

So I guess those are my things,

but if I don’t have all those, do I have anything?

Well, I’m pretty sure that list will get longer,

as time passes and as I get older,

I’m also completely convinced things will fall off,

and others will move so they’re right at the top.

But none of these things are really my thing,

because none of them really mean anything;

they don’t claim my identity

because that’s centred in Christ,

and He started changing me when He saved my life!

Whatever I think I am is fluid and free

because God’s making me who He created me to be.

He’s making me wise enough to know it’s a mistake

to spend all night on the dance floor without a pee break

(and yes, I can guess what you’re thinking, “That wasn’t obvious before?” - just let that sink in).

He’s making me wise enough to know a blank page

isn’t the end of all my writing days,

directing my projects,

leading me by the hand,

as I move and groove my way towards

being exactly who I am.

And so I can live not knowing what my thing is

because I know who I am, if I know who He is!