Resurrection

Today I heard that Andrew’s condition

is worse than we knew – another Syndrome

whacked his nervous system long

ago - and bashes lifespan even more -

- so, after the deepest heart-wrench and sobbing,

after the leaning on walls – head in hands;

when that roller coaster line on a page

(which psychiatrists draw) has been scribbled,

then what?

Well, the courage of Orpheus

living his fate-line

worked out by a master who chose (long ago)

to come-in as a teacher of heart in each moment;

rich as a rainbow melting like snow.

Still Rain

It’s raining in Scotland, falling like tears and the sky looks as gloomy as a million years and the Forth Bridge is standing - a line in the grey - with boats on the estuary languid - today; unraveling the traveling, it’s seagulls that call ‘come on, you’re a moving slow train - on a rail’ I’ve got furrows to plow - purposeful - now.

Self Pity

Here again - on a train

and on a diet - on and on -

and on a railroad - rattling on

and (though I try my best)

to muster hands and voicebox, me,

I fail and fall and ache inside

while fields and rivers flash-on by:

(like Grantchester) poor me - ah me -

but (oh) what courage when a boy with Down’s

steps away on wobbly legs and toes

out towards uncertainty (unknown)

more brave than many – ever - even muster

depending - surely - on his aching heart

to hold him safe and look and gaze and smile.