Two for joy

The Fires of Hell are hanging on the washing line,
And I am waiting for it to rain.
I can hear the angels whisper in the cupboard under the stairs.
Life will never be the same again.
If you give them a board they will iron out your soul.
If you lie quite still, they will dig you a hole.
Life is a game of waiting,
of standing in a queue.
Take your ticket........bide your time.
If I could take you, help you, wrap you, condense you
I could keep you, like you were mine.
There is the light, now walk towards it.
No need to be afraid.
The grass and trees are calling out your name.
I am sure the door is open, yours wings just inside.
The pieces left will be tidied up, we will keep playing the game. 


Time passes in a most erratic manner. It will be 3 years tomorrow since my mother died....last year I was sure it was 3 years....like a breath and a lifetime.
I haven't spent much time in the abyss, too frightened by it's enormity to venture in. I have peered in, consequently been debilitated by sobbing and my bed was the safest place to stay.
Most often it's the sense of displacement that overwhelms me, the feeling that what is and always has been is somehow not anymore.
I am lucky, in so many ways, but in this that when I have needed space to cry I have had it, grasped it and embraced it knowing that its ok, more than that, essential.
3 years and life goes on.......tomorrow I will remember......tomorrow I go to a wedding!