Eyes and Ears

The Storm for the Rain

I didn’t see one, two,
three or four,
didn’t see anything
less than all.

No different shapes,
no different hues,
no different sizes;
just a sheet, grey-blue.

I opened my hand
to hold just one,
but so many fell
and my grasp, undone.

One will never fall
by oneself,
but together, together
comes falling down.

Hands

I wished, still wish, to travel the world.
I wish to see Russia and Pakistan,
southern Africa and the US east coast,
France, Belgium, and
Te Anau just one more time.
I wish to see the golden jellyfish of Palau,
or the Aurora Borealis in frozen Alaska.
I wish for the world, I wish for the world…

On this Sunday, enduring to the end
is just a little too much.
Enduring to the end with joy in heart,
it’s enough to make a grown man cry.

On a ferry ride from Victoria to Port Angeles,
when phobia marred a fidgeting finger
and made flesh raw,
when sense and reason had no place,
a hand was offered
and it stayed
until chaos went its way.

Impending Extraction

It’s just a tooth,
just a tooth.
So why is there fear?
Why insecurity?
Why doubt and apprehension?

I remember a scalpel inside my wrist.
I don’t remember if it were
the radius or the ulna;
I just remember a rod of lightning
searing through my bones.
I only remember being torn
from the inside.
I simply remember pain, simple pain,
excruciating pain undulled by anaesthesia.

It’s just a tooth,
just a tooth.
There is fear,
insecurity,
doubt and apprehension.

The Last Post

War is a hellish thing,
an inconsequential pissing contest
between desk-set sacks of meat.
A palm and a pen and opinion
send cannon fodder afar
to an early grave of forgotten dirt.
It’s a tale as old as us, a tale
preceded and proceeded by ego
with minimal thought to real consequence.
The sign of a name that will be forgotten
in centuries – nay, years demands those
who we struggle to remember
leave behind a family who will be
impacted for generations.
War is a hellish thing.

But those who leave for what they believe
to be our sake do not question
political demand. They do not question
questionable decisions that will surely
haunt the dreams of any who are lucky
(or unlucky) enough to survive.
They fight and kill and die
because they believe that they do
what must be done to protect
the life they have learnt to love
and the lives they have learnt to love.
They are the accused and are persecuted
for crimes that need an answer,
an answer that does not belong to the servant.
War is a hellish thing.

Cost of the Toll

For the moment I dispute
Whatever thoughts you do impart,
I feel a genius none could refute;
A man of science, words, and art.
But simple truth that I must face
Is that I am a lesser man,
Because my knowledge has its place;
It only lies where my mind stands.
I do not know the world of truth
That I forever seek to find.
I only know how to improve,
How to end a clueless bind.
What matters is not what I say
If I do it for my pride,
What matters is not what I pray
If I pray for God’s left side.
What matters is the ear I use
To hear a newness never known.
What matters is what I peruse
To learn of seeds Vavilov has sewn.
What matters is a willing heart
And willing mind and willing sense,
For with these, when you do impart
The knowledge you have, hence
I am closer to my goal
Of the truth I seek to find.
Another cent for the ferry toll
Across the lake of clueless bind.

Rebirth

It’s begun!
That time of year when
daylight reaches the hours of creation,
when blood pumps to my fingertips
and ideas from my mind.
It’s the time of year when
writing does not just become a joy,
but becomes a witness of joy.
The seeds that were planted in the previous season
have now sprouted,
and new flowers whose names I know not
have burst into life with brilliance.
Thank what gods may be,
or thank the sun and stars,
for once again;
it has begun.

Back to Sleep

I can hear the morning birds chirping,
and see the new season’s rain
bring newness once again.

I can feel the crisp bite in the air,
and smell what they try to catch
in the aerosol cans.

I can see the blue grey sky,
and still feel sleep in my eyes
and dreams in my mind.

But for every piece of beauty here,
my only wish is to fall into
the slumbered reality that I knew.