Tag: breath

I Can See the Wind

I can see the wind.

You can see the airborne leaves, scooped

up from the ground,

You can see the waving branches

on tired trees

but I see the wind.

Not the inside out umbrellas

or the skirts around red faced ladies,

or even the cigarette packet

zipping through the air.

I can see it.

It’s not invisible!

Its long and its night coloured

and shaped like a snake and

it slithers and swishes through my hair

playing invisible.

I can see the wind.

I see it laughing

when it reaches in our chest

and sucks our breath

then whips our words into a whisper.

I’m not fooled

by its malice

when it asks the rain

to join in.

I can see the wind

and it’s ugly.

©Eilidh G Clark

Tip Toe

“Good Evening”

burst into the empty room and sinks

into  wood-chipped walls.

I am thrilled

There isn’t a cushion of place,

Or a dirty plate,

or a  dish cloth dotted with swollen toast crumbs, no.

There is just me, alone in clean silence.

I tiptoe on my tea stained carpet and hold my breath

in case the robin in the back garden stops singing.

Or the train on the railway track 400 yards away slows.

In my little cupboard sized kitchen

the kettle rocks  on its silver disc,

and the fridge performs its hourly shudder.

And the walls sweat.

I put last nights dinner in the ding – chicken supreme and second day roast potatoes,

better reheated, yes, better.

I scroll through Facebook,

watch people talking to one another

without opening their mouths.

I turn off my phone – to feel.

I feel everything.

Maybe I should do something?

Maybe I should clean my plate,

eat a jammy Wagon Wheel just because –

Maybe feel a little guilty so practice Yoga on the Wii?

Maybe just sit and watch the robin in the tree.

©Eilidh G Clark

Scroll

It is midnight.
And the stroke of its hand is a memory;
A memory of
a hand that once held mine.
I am entangled in darkness

The hiss of a serpent wraps around
my throat,
until my nicotine breath bellows
And drops.

Amongst the shadows,
Optimism shines like a ghost
from an invisible moon.

I am calm.

Déjà vu haunts me
and I realise my footsteps

may have, walked this place before when I was young.

And my future.

You made me. You

and a bald headed man
who is and is not my father.
You gave me this midnight, and you are gone.
Sadness lives in me like tumour
but sadness pays.

Soon

I will hold a scroll to say
Be proud mum, I did it.

©Eilidh G Clark

Drown

Midnight, On the blackened sand.
Waves crash upon the shore,
unfamiliar darkness
yet I’ve seen this place before.
Lying flat, eyes to the sky;
the stars are out of reach,
I’m all alone without you,
on this cold and lonely beach.
The gnawing cold snags my breath.
I wrap myself up tight,
I’m shrouded in a veil of grief
yet bathing in the moonlight,
I close my eyes and ponder
this melancholy mind,
I’m seasick from the universe
vanished from mankind.
Onto my feet I wander,
to the gentle lapping tide,
I asked the stars to help me,
in the moon did I confide,
but the burden was too heavy,
and my face a sorry frown
as I walked into the ocean
I said goodbye and drowned.

©Eilidh G Clark