Old poems new therapy



I suppose partly because a lot of folk are now actually reading my unread poetry through this blog, and partly because I don't quite know what to do with myself now that Dee has gone, I've been searching my old files; the ones in the folder entitled 'POEMS'

I've been looking especially for the verses about my girl - and there are plenty of them. Some are too personal but others like this one composed during her first hospitalisation a bit more than a year ago ... she had been given a 30-50% chance of survival but only if she undertook the most severe forms of chemotherapy. The ones with the cruellest 'side efffects'. Anyway I can share this one with you now. (Call it my own therapy) ...

She is not here, but

Yes! I see her in unlikely places
in the kitchen, ironing, watching races
walking behind me through the tangle
to our boulder seat, our secret river,
swimming in her undies off the rocks;
cold, cold sea, hot sun, laughing
loving her dogs and loving me
(‘though these not so unlikely)

I catch the scent of her on a pillow
and on opening her wardrobe door
and in the wild flowers she picked
and the yellow chanterelle that
she found ‘neath spaghnum vivid green
and in the soft bloom of her hair
after a shower, good rub, blow dry
and why am I ashamed to cry?

In dreams, in dreams I hear her voice
soft female when she feels that way
phoning at the ending of a day
or addressing, caressing her children,
her children’s children or any
other young of any other kind.
And I want to hear her footsteps
coming home with the shopping

I touch the fabric of her clothes
and she is here again and heaven knows
I miss her so, I miss the feel of her
the feeling saying I am not alone
that flesh is flesh and is not stone:
I know that what will be will be
but love is love and she is Dee and
still I swear that still she touches me.

And always will.

Bryan Islip at Kirkhill House, Aultbea
September 25th 2012
For Delia Mary in Ward 2C, Raigmore

1 comment:

  1. Made me cry. Oh Bryan... stunning poem and knowing a little of the lady who inspired it makes it all the more beautiful.

    My dad grew up with a father who said, "Never be ashamed to show your emotions." I come from a long line of men who weep - tears of joy or sorrow. I highly recommend it. Sometimes you need to wash the soul clean. xx

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