The Flight

Where have you carried me now,
If I stay here, I will
If I leave, I will bear on my scarred face
For years
The haunting stamp of what I’ve
And nobody will come
To someone, whose eyes are home
To ghosts;
Much too far you have carried me,
Much too close
To the other side;
Much too brave I have been
Where I should have been wise;
Now it’s too late to listen
To fear
Or to hope to survive
This flight

One Day

My lungs were gills once,

And my hands held swords;

My heart was small once,

And afraid of pain;

Unable to forgive or heal

Even a superficial cut,

It hid inside a cage

Without a key


My hair was short once

And my eyes were grey;

My wings were covered

With thick, heavy layers

Of dust and fears

Not to be shaken off,

So like a hunchback

I would walk half-bent;


I met the God of Time

One day, and this

He said to me:

‘Don’t be afraid:

‘Breathe in your days

With a full chest,

And drop the swords you hold –

For they will not protect


You from your enemy –


With your free hands

Release your heart and watch

The bruises disappear,

As love and courage grow;

Straighten your back

And use your gift – your wings


To soar higher

Than you believed you’d dare;

Time is too short –

I know of what I speak –

Let flow your hair of gold,

Let shine your silver eyes,

For when we meet again

I want


To see a woman,


When it’s time to say


And Love Each Step

You have been cruel

And I’ve been silly,

So we are equally to blame

For the wrongs of lying and believing,

For giving ours – and each other’s – words such meanings

As were convenient on certain days;


Your mouth would laugh

But not your heart, while

My eyes would smile

But not my lips:

Our feelings, all – misunderstandings,

Our paths – too different to the same home to lead


Forgiveness is

The longest journey,

So one must forgive readily;

You I can say good-bye to, but how to

Part with my own pathetic childishness,

At being weak – with so much shame and guilt?


All I can do is

Keep on moving: utter my words,

Regretting what I say; make friends,

Who may or may not be that to me;

And climb mountains of pain

To glowing summits – in my head


And love each step –

And have no fear of loving;

For there is nothing worse than being scared;

Nothing could hurt more

Than the angry words we’ve spoken,

Except the kind words which remain, and die, unsaid