A proud but lonely woman reaches out from her mental and physical prison that is life for her these days. Whereas before she would sooner have died than ask a favour and admit she is lonely, she is now driven to cry for help at all hours, all sense of time lost in a haze of utter misery.
Call after call after call she makes, often only a minute apart: 10, 20, 30, 40 even 50 in but a few hours, all to fall on the deaf ears of an answering machine. Each plaintiff message tearing at the heart when finally the messages are replayed, our love alone is not sufficient to nurture that aching heart and its simple needs.
So intense is her anguish, so extreme her behaviour that this is almost how her life now is. The simple existence of sleeping intermittently, feeding when the body demands and smoking herself silly are the background and the only respite are the trips to buy still more cigarettes, wine, simple foods, toilet rolls, kitchen towels and dog food.
No wonder the monotony drives her to lose all sense of perspective as she dials that same number for the umpteenth time in ten minutes only to ask the most banal questions as an excuse for calling or to bare her soul and plead for company in an unashamed, despairing outcry. How deep the pain must be to force her to surrender that pride and reach out so desperately. How deeply sad is our almost total impotence in the face of such glaring agony.
Saturday, 19 February 2011
Napes*
Ever noticed the napes of people’s necks? There’s every shape, size, texture and colour imaginable: the long thin, elegantly pallid nape; the pale, short, fat, hairy nape that narrows to a stocky head; the oily, spotty, skinny nape that last saw soap and water many days ago; the soft, supple, smooth nape, so very well cared for; the sallow, sweaty nape, part-covered in blond, curly swags of hair that drop short of the hastily-tied ponytail; the immaculate, closely-shaved, long nape that rigidly towers over it slovenly neighbours; the flaccid, slightly podgy nape that surrendered rigour for comfort long ago; the myriad covered napes, hiding unimaginably wide if also tiny variations.
As I obediently follow the hoard of seething napes, calmly retreating to the nearest exit in flight from an unknown emergency, I sense me melting into the crowd, just another nape, yet a nape that is uniquely mine. My growing awareness of my fellow napes and my part in the whole, I lose all sense of me and feel the joy of common experience, like the single snowflake forming a blanket in a storm that swathes and mollycoddles the exposed earth.
For the privilege of melting into a sea of bobbing napes and seeing my own as but a piece in life’s jigsaw, I am blessed with elation and the recognition of what would be possible if every nape felt the same for just one second. And the thought moves me to tears and I sigh…hopefully.
* This piece does not feature in my book, Love in Abundance
As I obediently follow the hoard of seething napes, calmly retreating to the nearest exit in flight from an unknown emergency, I sense me melting into the crowd, just another nape, yet a nape that is uniquely mine. My growing awareness of my fellow napes and my part in the whole, I lose all sense of me and feel the joy of common experience, like the single snowflake forming a blanket in a storm that swathes and mollycoddles the exposed earth.
For the privilege of melting into a sea of bobbing napes and seeing my own as but a piece in life’s jigsaw, I am blessed with elation and the recognition of what would be possible if every nape felt the same for just one second. And the thought moves me to tears and I sigh…hopefully.
* This piece does not feature in my book, Love in Abundance
Naked Beauty
“Get dressed Mummy”. Get in the bath…please!”
“But I had one last night: I have one every night”.
Her fantasy she may or may not believe, but I doubt it.
That night after much cajoling, she steps into a warm bath,
And surrenders to me, upset only that others may be laughing at her.
Left alone together, the warm soapy water soaks into her now sagging skin
Made leathery by so many years of sun bathing.
As I help free her skin of hardened oils and accumulated soil,
I persuade her to manage her most intimate areas and recesses.
But as I shampoo her lank and nicotine-stained hair,
Her head cupped in my hands, I experience a singular loving connection,
A deep intimacy akin to that between mother and child, but in reverse.
What a daunting challenge and yet profound privilege to be there for her in that way.
What an expression of deep, unconditional love and trust.
“But I had one last night: I have one every night”.
Her fantasy she may or may not believe, but I doubt it.
That night after much cajoling, she steps into a warm bath,
And surrenders to me, upset only that others may be laughing at her.
Left alone together, the warm soapy water soaks into her now sagging skin
Made leathery by so many years of sun bathing.
As I help free her skin of hardened oils and accumulated soil,
I persuade her to manage her most intimate areas and recesses.
But as I shampoo her lank and nicotine-stained hair,
Her head cupped in my hands, I experience a singular loving connection,
A deep intimacy akin to that between mother and child, but in reverse.
What a daunting challenge and yet profound privilege to be there for her in that way.
What an expression of deep, unconditional love and trust.
My Light*
As a baby, a wonderful light radiated from me and I was bathed in its reflection;
As a young child, I turned down the light and that reflection dimmed;
In my teens, I hid still more light as I began to enjoy the shade;
So by my adult years I stood in total darkness, but a black hole in a lonely universe;
Till one day I was shown I was that very light I had so long suppressed;
And once again I bathed in its glorious reflection and my light shone upon everyone.
* This piece is not featured in my book, Love in Abundance
As a young child, I turned down the light and that reflection dimmed;
In my teens, I hid still more light as I began to enjoy the shade;
So by my adult years I stood in total darkness, but a black hole in a lonely universe;
Till one day I was shown I was that very light I had so long suppressed;
And once again I bathed in its glorious reflection and my light shone upon everyone.
* This piece is not featured in my book, Love in Abundance
Material Expressions of Love
For years I have enjoyed indulging my mother in fine things: earrings, necklaces, scarves, rings, brooches and all sorts of clothes and shoes. She was nearly always delighted by my little finds from trips around the world and I wallowed in her delight. It also allowed me the freedom to buy beautiful things that a man cannot normally use himself.
But now my mother is not interested in virtually anything, with the possible exception of my poetry, and I feel sad; a sense of loss, of something that will never be again. And I see at once my gifts have been such a silent but strong expression of my undying love for the woman who bore me.
So, goodbye to that veiled expression of love I have known for so long but all is not lost and my poems are the bridge into my mother’s world; into that lonely, waning spirit as she too slowly says goodbye.
But now my mother is not interested in virtually anything, with the possible exception of my poetry, and I feel sad; a sense of loss, of something that will never be again. And I see at once my gifts have been such a silent but strong expression of my undying love for the woman who bore me.
So, goodbye to that veiled expression of love I have known for so long but all is not lost and my poems are the bridge into my mother’s world; into that lonely, waning spirit as she too slowly says goodbye.
Love and Neglect
Mummy, you look long and hard into my eyes, searching I suppose for reassurance of my love for you. You cry when you see me, get angry when I’m with you for those many days we have been apart, making it mean I don’t want you or love you. You can do that if you want but it must be so painful – searching for proof that you’re right and finding it, of course. We always do.
But you could as easily choose another way of looking at it: that I love you with all my heart, that I ache for my mother’s love and friendship, knowing that I cannot spend the time with you that I would like. I do not deceive myself or you: I choose to pursue my career and other commitments but I also choose to put time aside for you each week, aware at least that you are safe and have companionship that was missing in that painful period when you lived alone.
It seems such a waste of our limited time together to have you vent your frustrations and be miserable, only to be cheerful when I am not around – I ask you to forget your self-torturing perspective and enjoy my visits as concentrated moments of love and connection.
And as I hug you hard and your resistance melts, I feel the love flow freely between us like a warm, regenerative life-blood filling my heart with joy and leaving me satisfied with my diversion on the way to work. I love you, dear, and always will.
But you could as easily choose another way of looking at it: that I love you with all my heart, that I ache for my mother’s love and friendship, knowing that I cannot spend the time with you that I would like. I do not deceive myself or you: I choose to pursue my career and other commitments but I also choose to put time aside for you each week, aware at least that you are safe and have companionship that was missing in that painful period when you lived alone.
It seems such a waste of our limited time together to have you vent your frustrations and be miserable, only to be cheerful when I am not around – I ask you to forget your self-torturing perspective and enjoy my visits as concentrated moments of love and connection.
And as I hug you hard and your resistance melts, I feel the love flow freely between us like a warm, regenerative life-blood filling my heart with joy and leaving me satisfied with my diversion on the way to work. I love you, dear, and always will.
Inertia*
A lump of metal, well machined but lifeless sits on the car seat, staring hard at me while its owner is absent and I feel sick to my core. As I sit there I feel fear and disgust as well as sadness: so how can an impassive, inert object instil such deep feelings in me? This lump of machined metal is a machine gun belonging to the guard of our convoy.
The fear and disgust emanate not from that innocent lump of metal but rather the intentions behind the very human act of creation of a weapon. That someone can use it to take the life of another saddens me deeply, yet the irony is that I feel somewhat safer that our guard is armed and, indeed, if he were not he would serve no purpose on our journey.
In applying the same perspective to the myriad weapons designed to kill our fellow man, the sadness deepens still, tears welling up from within as I become aware of how, by my inertia, I too am as guilty as the next for the deaths in the name of this or that, that in reality have no justification, sat here in my safe, comfortable surroundings.
* This piece is not featured in my book, Love in Abundance
The fear and disgust emanate not from that innocent lump of metal but rather the intentions behind the very human act of creation of a weapon. That someone can use it to take the life of another saddens me deeply, yet the irony is that I feel somewhat safer that our guard is armed and, indeed, if he were not he would serve no purpose on our journey.
In applying the same perspective to the myriad weapons designed to kill our fellow man, the sadness deepens still, tears welling up from within as I become aware of how, by my inertia, I too am as guilty as the next for the deaths in the name of this or that, that in reality have no justification, sat here in my safe, comfortable surroundings.
* This piece is not featured in my book, Love in Abundance
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