Lead me to the moors, where they littered the empty medicine bottles
Smashed the glass to smithereens and in turn broke me too
Bled me into the waters until the sea turned from blue, to amber, to red.
Lead me to the creek I used to paddle in, that now crumples me
Like that heartbreaking letter in an omnipotent fist
Took my vulnerability and put it in a transparent display cabinet.
Lead me to Scarborough's shore, where the glistening pools mislead me
Pinned all our hopes on one solution until not even the doctors
Had a clue what miracle would do.
When the winds accelerated, they grasped the splintering shards
Hurled all their forces at me, so I fled to high ground
Bolted the cabin door behind me, teetering on the cliff edge
Locked the windows in an attempt to save myself from the army of glass
Stood in guarded anticipation, hoping the storm wouldn't undercut the cliff
Believed the pain was eternal, the struggle for evermore
Breathlessly admired the melodramatic war of the waves
Wielding tridents of salt and bright white spray in a frenzied attack on each other.
In dim candlelight, I confided in my notebook
Futile appeasement of the storm as internal tsunami clutched control
Iron dictatorship pursuing pathetic fallacy
Screaming at the sky, I reported thunder
Blazing eyes lit the fireplace, I believed there was lightning
Reeling from dagger wounds, I tore the paintings down
Saw cobwebs clinging in the corners of my resentment
Cottage corroded by acid rain from bluest eyes turned grey.
Trembling tectonics released the stopper suppressing truth
Until I crumbled, a heap outpouring honesty
Lost in the sea of icy betrayal, stranded in the barren meadow
I was forced to face the flaws I feared the most
And at least the battle scars prove I'm no longer bleeding out
At least the morphine agony proves I'm alive
At least the tears staining my pillow venerate your memory.
From the seeds I sowed, ivy adorned the timid cottage
Wisteria sheltered me from the storm until the debris settled
Lighting up the dank cabin, like fairy lights strung in amongst the night
Paintings fixed and framed, shades of anger and blame
Painted over with growth and newfound enlightenment
Empty bookshelves piled with emotive outpourings, golden with photos of you
Because lately I've known nothing except that I miss you.
But you're still here in everything beautifully battered
I still see you in the flowers fighting the frost
I see you in the bird with the torn tail, the auburn leaves floating.
I still hear you in the breeze that whispers to my soul
From the dales by Pen-y-ghent, in the smile of the stars.
I still feel you in the lucid dreams that almost seem to be a mirage
Where you cheer me on just as I doubt myself
Recognise your shining eyes because you loved my poetry.
Only your body is buried, the rest is still thriving now
Right as I sign my name on the sheets suspended in mid-air
Waves break softly, wind eases eventually
I tiptoe from the cabin, soar from the cliff edge
Skip over the sand, where the glass has been long washed away
Fold the scrap of paper and secure it in the empty glass bottle
Send it out into the glittering cerulean from Scarborough.
I hear the clanging of the gate oscillate over the expansion
Harmonise with the harps ringing out forever
Exhale as my letter in a bottle reaches you
Reaches you in dreamland.
LD x ~ 18/12/20
YOU ARE READING
Loudspeaker
Puisi'... are my words enough?' Many themes and issues run through this collection, interwoven with each other, knitted between poems, so much so this is less of a collections of poems more of a continuous narrative. When I write, I'm constantly inspired...
