Blinded By Insight

I bring in the invisible

For the days

When you were not there

Of which there where ample

That is not to say

For the days

Before you were there

Of which there were way too many

The invisible to the indivisible

Towards the same

For the before you

For the you thereafter

Swathed in luminous light

Bathed in dilated darkness

Impervious to pleading

Reading into, all that you ever read

I push on with the invisible

For the you that was not you

That is not to say

For the I that was not I

The indivisible to the invisible

Towards the difference

For the I before the I

For the I of you thereafter

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Assemble

The meditation did not bring me here

I came of an altogether different accord

It was in a way a choice-less choice

Yet I was the one who made that choice, wilfully

With no one else in mind

Compassion then only for oneself

How else might that be

The storms are over

The days, the nights of rolling thunder have died down

The hours, the hours of sheet and fork lightning are over

There is a calmness abroad

Yes, it may well be superficial

If I should explore the surface I may well disturb it

That place, that stillness, that tranquility

Which this early morning gifts to me

Where I am able to think back

To reinvent, to recreate your kitchen table scene

Even earlier in the morning, before light breaks

Moments when I imagine you would sit

To catch your thoughts, in a letter which you send to me

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Acceptance

I know more than I know*

I have taken you within me

Within me as my contradiction

Yes I have bought into John’s words

Bought into all of the possibilities 

Which your contradictions might gift to me

It did not take a little time

It was not without pain

Or suffering; yet I was steadfast

Here my belligerence helped me

For on many occasions I could have capitulated

Yet always I hung on in there, however fragile

Now, today, I smile; a smile

From I know not where, other than

From all of those contradictions

Which you brought with you

Contradictions, which one by one you handed over

To become more secure, within my domain

* John O’Donohue: Celtic Wisdom - Inner Landscape

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Past Master

I found the book

Spine broken

Tea stained cover

Pages browned with age

Sadly it brought purpose

To an otherwise purposeless morning

In bed until eleven

Not much more to it than that

I also came across the biscuits

Chocolate digestives no less

I don’t recall that you had a favourite

You not being a sweet-tooth, unlike me

His poem, you know the teacher’s poem

There on page eighteen, his poem

Which says so much about you

Although with words which I never could have raised

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Familiarity

The poem about the son struck me

Also the one about the father

Did you not also write

Such relationship poems

Words of knowing, of not knowing

Of curious closeness, of disappointing distance

Did you write out of longing

Or longing for closure

It makes no sense, that I know

Yet the dense matter does matter

As a matter of fact, on some days

It is all that seems to matter

Words for quite unbridgeable words

Except for the clapper bridges in my mind

Words for no purpose of purpose

Except for the purpose of lifting away my working time

My now time; my dawn times, my dusk times

The lifting away is what the poet gave me

A lift in the spirits, a lift for the sensibilities

A whole layer of lifts, into your other world

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