Were we brothers once, upon the sodden Somme...
digging trenches, cleaning weapons, taking
solace in our song.
Did we march with heavy packs upon our bony
shoulders,
poets in peace time, now unlikely soldiers.
Did one see the other forever leave this
life?
Write the final black-edged letter to the
other’s wife:
“Killed instantly, and he did nobly die”
Swallowing the bitter pill of that kindly
lie,
lost, bewildered at the absence, at the being
gone.
No time for tears, no time to rest, must just
bravely soldier on.
Were we brother, sister, father, mother, in
some other time,
did we go to school together, skip rope to
repetitious rhyme,
did we sail abroad the sparkling seas,
exploring secrets of the deep,
did we drink rum, play cards and fight and
hardly ever sleep?
did we teach school, swap books and go for
endless walks,
did we scowl at wilful children and chew on
sticks of chalk
did we fall into each other’s arms at the
close of day
and marry matching husbands, though we both
were gay?
All these thoughts – they clamour to be
heard.
Are they memory or glamour, butterfly or
bird?
Yet - I feel them all - all the years and
all the days,
all the scars and all the grazes,
all the hurt and drunken dazes,
all the pain and all the hunger,
all the love and all the anger,
all the words and all the silence,
all the lies and all the guidance,
all the nights and all the days,
all the smoulder all the blaze,
all the lives of you and me,
across a thousand years,
across some stormy seas.
And now we live in parallel: a life at
times like heaven, occasionally, like hell
All these burning questions, all about the world,
sometimes we’re grown women, occasionally,
young girls.
The days of callow youth; of learning and
confusion,
of secret tidal yearning, betrayal and
exclusion,
the loving approbation, along with the
mixed message,
lightning struck our family trees, and we lived
in the wreckage.
But it was home to us, and we learned not
to mind,
we stuck our fingers in our ears and
gradually went blind.
And so it’s little wonder, when our senses
had returned,
that the thunder had departed and the tables had
all turned.
Cocoon had turned to carapace, and then
began to chafe.
We wondered if it would be soon we would
again feel safe.
And so we tried, and failed, we ran and
then we fell,
did reckless, bloody stupid things because
we might as well;
Until we jump ourselves awake and we’re still
deaf and blind,
we don’t know what the hell we’re doing,
but somehow do not mind.
We roll along, we nod and smile,
we always go the extra mile,
we make do and we mend, we reap and
sometimes sow,
we do our best with what we’ve got and say
yes when we mean no.
And when we’re on the point of dying - of
all this meek compliance,
something rises up inside: the long-silent
voice of our defiance.
Brows drop abruptly - people think they have
misheard.
We wonder if we will be killed, or will our
lives be spared.
And we push on and they push back and
there are buttons being pushed,
it’s endless bloody combat and the going’s
pretty rough.
And then – impasse - and maybe some backsliding,
We beat ourselves right up again, then tire of
the self-chiding.
Until one day, we give ourselves a break,
we might be flawed and fragile but at least
we’re wide awake.
And so this is modern living, this is
living in the now,
the books all have a chapter missing – the
one that tells you how.
But that chapter's written over freshly
every day,
we don’t get to think about what our souls
will have to say.
It’s pointless to resent the seeming lack
of progress,
there is truth in us that, one day, we will
learn to not suppress.
That's the hardest thing of all - this
telling of the truth,
to others first, and then ourselves - we
need to grasp it by the root,
pull it from its earth-bound womb and
bring it out into the light,
it doesn’t hurt the farmer’s plough to
bring the crop to life.
And we live on, all through this life and the
next.
We think we will remember, but sometimes we
just forget.
(2011)
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