two weeks - poems v2
TRANSCRIPT
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Two weeks Marjorie H Morgan (January 2014)
Two weeks
by
Marjorie H Morgan
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Two weeks Marjorie H Morgan (January 2014)
For my muse, DebraK
and also for my child, Gabz
with much love always.
© Marjorie H Morgan 2014
Al l ri ghts reserved. No part of thi s book may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electroni c ormechanical, i ncludi ng photocopying, recording, or by any inf ormation storage and retrieval system, without
permi ssion i n wri ting from the publi sher.
http://www.facebook.com/MarjorieHMorgan
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Two weeks Marjorie H Morgan (January 2014)
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Two weeks Marjorie H Morgan (January 2014)
1.
Like a blood transfusion
it becomes my own.
I carry it with me ...
everywhere.
It never sleeps
even when I do,
it’s a part of me now,
but
I never chose it...
I never would.
I accept it
only
because
it
reminds
me
of
the love of
you.
Grief.
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Two weeks Marjorie H Morgan (January 2014)
2.
I n my own image
I am circled
by people, lights and shadows.
I absorb them all,
I hold them
deep.
I see them,
I really see them.
I don’t see
me.
I have no mirror.
I see
they see
the
face
of my heart
... without a mirror.
Without a mirror
how will I know
just what I look like?
Without a mirror
can I
recognize
who I am?
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Two weeks Marjorie H Morgan (January 2014)
Without a mirror
do I learn
me
from the
inside
out?
Without my mirror
am I
blind
to
me?
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Two weeks Marjorie H Morgan (January 2014)
3.
Swallow the past
Decades of trundling
with the past
packed tight
in my steamer trunk
gave me a bad back
and a heavy mind.
I remember a shadow always passing over me.
Even when I
whittled down the load
I still retained
over-stuffed heavy hand luggage
that warped my spine
and drained my heart.
I felt the shadow on my shoulder.
It was only after I walked away
from the barbed weights
of all my past
that I saw
the ancient solitary bird
at last
flying
off -
towards
the sun.
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Two weeks Marjorie H Morgan (January 2014)
Finally clear
I see
the sunlight has swallowed
the shadows of the past.
Straightening my frame
I remembered that
one swallow doesn’t make a summer.
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Two weeks Marjorie H Morgan (January 2014)
4.
I am a secret
that I want you to know.
Like Hansel and Gretel
I leave you crumbs
to find the way to my
intimate abode.
I appear cloaked -
but I gave you the key
to all my mysteries.
Self-disclosure
never came easily before.
My spread-eagled heart
now
offers
full disclosure
of
myself.
I will always be afraid
to be truly known,
but not by you.
I rebel against myself,
As I destroy my wall of self protection
to reveal
my vulnerability.
Afraid I stand,
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Two weeks Marjorie H Morgan (January 2014)
yet still
I am a secret
that I want you to know.
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Two weeks Marjorie H Morgan (January 2014)
5.
To live in peace,
I need to remember love like an elephant,
and forget hate like a goldfish.
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Two weeks Marjorie H Morgan (January 2014)
6.
I am neither miner
nor Professor,
but I know that passion lives
in the deepest places.
It’s never dormant,
but may sometimes rest.
Precious metals pale in comparison.
I have seen that
transparency is passion’s
hallmark.
It can be never be duplicated.
It cannot be disguised.
Passion is the transfusion of the heart
into action.
It bites your soul
and never lets go.
Intricate intimate connections invisible to
the naked eye
ignite
and fan the flames of the unfathomable fire.
It has no edges, or corners,
no breadth or depth,
it just is.
Personal. Passionate.
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Two weeks Marjorie H Morgan (January 2014)
Perfectly shaped for me.
All passion has clarity,
but no master,
it flows constantly ...
and will not be stopped.
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Two weeks Marjorie H Morgan (January 2014)
7.
Advice falls freely like
autumn leaves
on a windy day.
Swirling options
dance through my mind,
still I hesitate.
I’m waiting.
Just waiting.
Time manipulates time
throwing me
between before, after and now.
Then,
in the moments
that I stand apart
from my problems
I find
s i l e n c e.
It envelops me,
immediately my brow sheds its furrows,
uncertainty is massaged away.
The only wisdom I need
comes from the sage that raised me ...
I hear my voice ask me,
“What would my mother say?”
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Two weeks Marjorie H Morgan (January 2014)
8.
Erased
When we’re apart
your words and actions
remain
stitched across my heart.
The true depth
of our relationship
stays our
shared secret.
My memories of us
gather at every step
of my day as my mind revisits
country drives and
beach walks,
late night talks and
busy lives.
With butterfly wings
my thoughts
fly over hurtling trains
and deep, deep water to where
a serene smile and a ‘welcome home’ hug
said everything that was missing
and
soft lips joined
as hearts locked
together.
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Two weeks Marjorie H Morgan (January 2014)
Picture it
where you are,
remember us.
I do.
Special times are never
erased.
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Two weeks Marjorie H Morgan (January 2014)
9.
She is the simplest
most complicated woman
I have ever known
and never really known.
I sense her in the beauty of a rose,
I hear her in the r ise of a familiar song,
I read her between the covers of a book,
I see her in my own eyes.
Her voice is clear in dreams alone,
It will not stay with me past dawn.
But all the time
I feel her in my heart.
I'll always miss her.
She is my mother.
Happy Birthday, Mummy
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Two weeks Marjorie H Morgan (January 2014)
10.
Without space
to think
I sometimes
forget
to remember
who I really am.
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Two weeks Marjorie H Morgan (January 2014)
11.
Dreaming
Follow your dreams
so the saying goes,
live the life
you want
but
now I know things
I never dreamed of
like
Christmas without you,
birthdays remembered in silence.
A month not seeing your face
for me
is like trying
to breathe underwater.
It’s a nightmare.
I’d never dream
your absence
into my days
yet
here it is
constructing an uncomfortable reality
that nests around
my vacant soul.
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Two weeks Marjorie H Morgan (January 2014)
Forgive me,
please,
as I dream new dreams
to fill the space
you
and I
held
in my heart.
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Two weeks Marjorie H Morgan (January 2014)
12.
Shape-shifter
From my first cry
to my final sigh
I will be many things.
Some I choose,
others choose me.
Some things I see,
to others I am blind.
Like a cared for grape
I am shaped
by love
into a full-bodied wine.
Like a cotton sheet
I have been pressed
in all corners
until
steam swallowed my pain.
Like molten glass
I was shaped
by pressure
into the finest crystal.
Like window putty
I have been moulded
by purpose
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Two weeks Marjorie H Morgan (January 2014)
to stand strong.
Like a glorious
phoenix
I hold on
to deep desires
to start again,
and again.
I am a shape-shifter
on a non-stop journey
from my first earthly breath
until it all ends.
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Two weeks Marjorie H Morgan (January 2014)
13.
Surprises
It’s not just on birthdays
that
my tears and my heart
surprise me,
it’s anytime
when random acts of strength
parry against unexpected weakness.
Like when a familiar bee nuzzles my inner ear
and my mind jets to a deep hidden memory -
the dormant twin responses are instantly awake:
to flutter, to run or
fight to reign supreme?
Movement abandons me,
and like mist my breath evaporates
and what’s uncovered is never certain.
I never know
how long each battle will last,
like shifting sands
nothing seems secure
my heart twists and turns
to play the shadow in my theatre of emotions.
The curtain falls,
and in that moment
what lies behind is a mystery.
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Two weeks Marjorie H Morgan (January 2014)
For when the heavens collaborate
against my controlled now
to celebrate my buried carefree then
that’s when
I am all undone.
Again.
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Two weeks Marjorie H Morgan (January 2014)
14.
Where can I learn lessons in bravery?
Is there a teacher I need to know?
I instinctively sense I’ve succeeded before,
and just when I’m sure I can do it again
doubt slides before me in a fear laden lorry
that’s blocking my thinking as well as my way.
It hurts when I try too hard to remember,
amnesia knits my mind
like a fog,
but in a splinter of thought
I feel myself trying.
I dare to be
the child that I was.
Excitement shocks through me,
shedding my fear skin
I laughingly climb into myself -
I’ve escaped from my bondage to run brave and free,
I’m rushing to meet
the child that was me.
In a part of a moment I’m gone from the bowstring
just like an arrow - gliding and soaring
I am relaxed as I fly,
and when I glance back to the fear far behind me
I can see clearly
I’m also the archer
releasing me.
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15.
I was but a child
when I first had a sense
of who
I was meant to be.
Sat scared
at the world’s busy ankles
grey heads tried to shatter my dreams.
Still, the fertile world inside me
refused to lay down and die,
its whispered words
kept repeating
“If you are them,
who am I?”
The child that was me
had the first sense
of who
I was meant to be.
I am
who I was,
I am
who I know me to be.