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Playing The Fool
These days I am in the business of loving.
I have learnt that is what all feeling is
And I feel everything.
These grey mornings I have found grief,
A stone in by belly
Wrapped up in paper like a gift.
How wonderful to have loved so much,
How stupid to keep on loving,
How brave.
Sometimes I am happy, I think
At least, happiness is no longer a myth
To me, like women with bird’s wings,
It is a myth more like hand-rolled croissants on sunlit kitchen tables;
I know it happened once and
It can happen again if only I try a little.
Mostly, though, I am ok -
A woefully unappreciated state to be in.
Okay is full of peaceful space, ready
To be filled by the gorgeous largeness
Of misery or pride, lust or excitement.
Okay is a hand held to keep from being
Bowled over by nostalgia or impatience.
Okay pulls you up when, inevitably, you are
Pushed down by a feeling so sublime
You take the risk to let go and
Marvel at its hugeness.
I want to fall, occasionally,
It’s all love, afterall,
Even the bad stuff.
In spring,
I sat in the back of a car with my best friend and her mum
And golden hour fell
Over a field of newborn lambs cuddled
Into the wool of their mothers
And the gold didn’t stop at my skin
And I thought
“this must be what joy feels like”.
How hilariously glorious!
And how sad, that is took me
So long to know what it feels like.
There’s something in there, I’m sure
About mothers, about loss, and children, and
How much time I spend, these days,
With a baby sleeping on my breast,
Or sobbing over my past,
And how I know the future only brings more of everything
And I feel everything,
These days,
And if feeling really is love
And love is really all you need
Then I will never want for anything.
I will spill love
Like a tap stuck open,
Like a moon-pulled tide onto rocks
And I will siphon off the excess,
Pour it into jars,
Bake it into words,
Sell it on for kisses.
These days, I am in the business of loving.
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