A poetic prose from 2012
“If you ask you don’t get, if you don’t ask you don’t want;
it’s not yours, you can’t have it, didn’t earn, don’t deserve;
if it’s fun it is bad for you, how dare you enjoy?
You’re not here to be happy, you’re here to endure.
You do as you’re told, not what you want; and who are you anyway? I know who you’re not!
I know what you’re like and I’ll tell you again – you’re selfish and greedy and just like your mother; you’re lazy, a day-dreamer, real good-for-nothing!
I’ll thrash you and give you something to cry about – if you don’t stop crying now!”
The pleasure in pain and the pain in the pleasure – isn’t much fun, but is real to me!
Voices and choices – We are what we eat? That is what she says –
The powerful diet of childhood days.
Her body is strong, built to endure; strong bones and tough sinews, sharp eyes and big lungs;
blood full of iron (and oxygen now), feeding the nerves and the brain;
so feed it and work it, rest it and cleanse it; use it, abuse it and bring it to heel…
And what of her senses, oh glorious senses?
The sights and the sounds, the smells and the taste and the touch: –
The sweet smell of fresia, wallflower and lily, of meat roast in garlic, of black-berried Shiraz…
The taste of fried mushrooms, sea bass, tzatziki; the wine on the palette and fresh summer figs…
Oh delights of the senses, who says I can’t have them? What’s wrong with the pleasures that nature has given?
The sight of the blossom, the fields and the coast, the rush of the river and wind in the branches;
the colours of nature, delicate and bold, rich in their glory, surely mine to behold?
The sunrise and sunsets, richness galore, the stars in the twilight, promising more…
The sounds of the waters, the crash of the waves, the bird song, the whale cry, laughter and storm; of music that man makes, music of God, music of nature and of the soul…
And the touch of the rain and the sun on the skin, the feelings of pleasure stirring within;
the touch of a friend that warms and releases, the touch of a lover that blows you to pieces;
touches of softness, closeness and heat, coolness and tenderness, moments to keep, to savour…
Am I to deprive them? Having discovered them, are they bad to enjoy?
“No! But don’t over do it! Know when to stop”, I hear wisdom implore….
The body’s a temple, according to God;
mine is more like a mad house with this lot!
And what of the mind and reason and all – who should she listen to, the quiet one in me?
She’s a perfectionist, determined, but timid and shy;
she works hard and gets there, not quite knowing how…
She is willing to learn, but has not said a lot, (can’t get a word in) and has not a strong voice;
so is easily silenced and drowned by the noise
of the rest of the house…
Is that where the Will fits in, or is that of the mind? And who does the Will listen to?
Sometimes courageous, stoic and proud, she dresses herself for the fight;
when clad in full armour she believes she’s invincible, thinks that the battle is won..
but a waiver of doubt, a taunt and a whisper and the victory is gone, armour trashed on the ground. Who’s battle was it anyway?
And what of emotion, the feelings, the soul?
Is she tied to the senses or mind?
She is wild and creative, chaotic, unstable,
trembling, unhinged and a mess.
Palpitations and passions, overwhelmed and undone –
she loves you and needs you in bubbles and laughter, terribly empty and alone;
she will cuddle and hug you, with kisses or tears – never quite knowing which voice –
whether dreams or her fears – are driving her into each choice;
whether guilty, heart-broken, lonely, ecstatic, she’s hurting and aching and alive –
but, gosh, it’s hard work to survive!!
And what of the Spirit?
You’d think there’s no room left, but the Spirit is so vast and so …WOW!
She is the breath of my life, my energy and power.
She is the love in the meeting, the gratitude in sensing, the joy in receiving and the giving away.
She is the top of the mountain and the sob from the gut;
the hope of each moment, the prayer in each move…
It is here that I live and here I would stay,
my eternal and heavenly home.
Here is my peace. Why can’t I live here? Why do the other Dawns get in the way?
My body, my passions, feelings and mind,
Holy Spirit, unite my brokenness, I pray!