I’ve seen it in the bottom of a tea-cup.
In the way the bones have fallen,
And in the future revealed by the Elder Futhark.
It’s written in the stars;
In new migratory paths of the Eastern Curlew.
And reinforced by the southward movements
of the Alaskan Timber Wolf.
The solitary Blue Whale sings about this end.
Maybe I’m entering my menopause?
Perhaps it’s an epigenetic thing?
Whatever it is, its not a single trigger.
I’m getting angry, at times, violent.
At other times simply disappointed,
in your failure to understand.
I can’t provide you with support,
not for much longer anyway.
I’m changing and it’s permanent.
We cannot continue this relationship –
not the way it’s currently arranged.
You are going to have to change your ideas,
Or I will not be here for you – your choice.
You need to embrace new energies.
Tidy up my oceans and the water I provide.
Stop polluting my soils with plastic and poisons…
… just clean up after yourselves!
If not –
I’m going to have to ask you to leave.
Will we see past the colour
Will we perceive the beauty
Held within these simple strokes
Or will our hearts refuse
To see the reality beneath
The murmur of life
That hums equally
Within all living things
Regardless of how we paint them
Does the sun rise for me,
Or am I rushing to greet it?
Does the moon forget to touch me
As she slips below the horizon,
Or have I simply failed to watch anymore?
Does a friend slight me,
Or do I fail to understand his pain?
Does a relationship turn sour,
Or was there nothing there to begin with?
Does the old soldier sip quietly on a rum
Because he needs the drink,
Or does he salute dead mates?
Is life a construction site,
or a constant reconstruction site?
I’m not sure…
His black skin held tight The red blood that pumped life, Until she cut him. Her pale complexion Always hid the red blood, Until she was shamed. Her ancient ancestry Stayed in her red blood, Until the city stole her innocence. Kneeling in prayer Red blood sang through his body, Until hatred ended his life. Our naked desires Our blood red insides Our loves and fears The vessel matters not The souls are all alike. The heart pumps the same - Red blood.