You have to tell the truth in poetry
every heart wrenching soul draining truth,
every damned moment you close your eyes
and lift your head to the sky
in a desperate attempt to become the air
and let it swallow you until you’re no longer
the person you were before you closed your eyes
We’ve all done it haven’t we?
We’ve all laid in the bath and stared at our feet
holding our glass of wine and intertwining each toe,
lost in the heat wrapped around your skin
like a bubble taking you away from the tragedy we call life
that awaits us beyond the bathroom door.
And you look at the glass you’re holding, half full of a liquid
that has turned into a desperate attempt
to drown your demons and your devils
and your never-ending list of never ending problems
that no one could ever possibly understand.
Except half way down the glass,
while you were trying to drown them,
you realise that your demons have learned to swim.
So you put the glass down and you stare
and you submerge yourself in the warmth
and close your eyes and think for just one second
about what would happen to you if you took a breath now.
But you get back up, and you cry.
And you scream.
And then you’re numb
We’ve all done it.
Gone on the longest walk to the most beautiful of places
and longed to be the birds that soar over the world,
free to fly wherever they wish,
free from it all,
and you think about all the places you would fly
if you were a bird.
I think I’m a robin
and I fly and play and swoop over the sad places,
my destination is the saddest I can find
to try and shed some light with my red breast.
Then I end up in my own back garden,
staring from the branch through the window, at myself.
- (Edited by Graham Sherwood)