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| Three hungry ghosts |
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I'm tired of the feeling that I'm running for my life:
My life is what I'm married to like husband is to wife.
And though I've always known this, I still find that I resist,
I made you low priority. I pushed you down the list.
I'm sorry to my Spirit for the signs I have ignored.
I'm sorry I've despised the things that need to be adored.
I'm sorry I have started to identify without;
To attach to the external, thinking that's what life's about.
I know that I've been chasing peace (I chased till I was wild)
Like the kite string that I couldn't grasp, when was a child.
I've let the world around me be the wind that blows my kite,
Until I've all but lost control of choice and all but lost my sight.
And in the dark I see the ghosts; hungry dark and open,
Waiting for acknowledgement – they only want a token.
And up till now I've run from them as if they want my soul,
Until it's what they end up taking, though it's not their goal.
Forgive me, hungry ghosts. I am ready, now, to feed you.
I didn't understand before, why and how I need you?
I starved you and ignored you till you opened in my face,
Pouring shadow into light, bringing pinnacle to base,
Where mud and shite and dark decay and decomposing things
Are the mulch beneath my feet in the absence of my wings.
The land of fallen Icarus; the chasm of the heart;
Where broken souls can decompose, let go and fall apart.
And in this mulch, I call to you, my hungry ghosts: you hear me?
I love you. I will feed you and I ALWAYS want you near me.
And now I close my streaming eyes. Within the sky is blue –
And you are not my ghosts. You're angels. How can this be true?
How can peace exist within when darkness roams without?
How will I remember I don't need to scream or shout?
How will I remember I must do the work inside,
Pouring mulch into the areas where I still try to hide.
How will I have faith that Roses, from the mulch, will grow?
The answer is 'my heart will keep this truth alive; aglow.'
For even where the darkness reigns, when angels fall and break,
There's a candle in the chasm and it shines lost souls awake.
Thank you, hungry ghosts, for your patience and your care.
Thank you for consuming me until I wasn't there.
I'll honour you and feed you always, guardians of the flame,
And if the candle vanishes in ego, drama, shame,
All I have to do is close my eyes and see it there,
Guarded by three hungry ghosts who won't let me despair.
You will keep the candle burning for the Icarus in me,
So I can learn, once more, to fly and set my kingdom free.
16th January 2016 ©Simon Welsh Poetry
Written in Bali in 28 degree heat, under a dark sky with a half moon.
Inspired by a conversation with my dear frind, Kamal Simpson on a terrible stormy night at beginning of January. |
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