FALLEN
 
Faithfully I follow you up the trailing mountain track.
Trundling over rocks, you carry our fresh picnic lunch
Green salad, camembert and blush-pink wine.
Golden spring wattle taps your shoulders,
Anointing you with its sweet-scented blessings,
While I lug my barbed guilt, heavy and hurting
Breathe it in, breathe it out.
 
Hurry up, you call, not knowing yet the secret I keep
 
And you, gentle man,
Hold back a straggling branch for me to freely pass
But you let it go too soon, accidently, of course and
Runaway bough slaps my face which is, after all,
What I deserve for this closet I conceal.
 
You don’t notice the red welt that streaks my cheek
 
We are not mountaineers, you and I,
But our climb has been steep
Without warning I stumble and trip on loose stones.
Oh, my angel, you have fallen, you say.
 
I am fallen, I say
 


CRACK                                
    The crack in the wall
    was getting wider
    worried me a lot 
    from floor to corner of the ceiling
    like a zig zag trace
   of a lightning bolt

   I used to muse
   and wonder
   how much worse it would get
   but in the end
   it got so wide that
   on a fine day
   you could see
   the cloud creased sky
   and on a dark night
   the silent stars

   That was when
   I told you about it
   you rang one day one day
   without warning
   without warning after so many years
   there is a crack I said.
   I can come and help you with that you said
   loving me

   But I didn’t ask you over
   I ignored your offer of help
   and only a year later  -  natural causes
   you were old after all,
   but you knew about cracks
   oh yes you knew about cracks

   The builder said it was
   because of the drought
   and that when the drought was over
   the crack in the wall would close
   just as if it had never been there
   never been there at all

   He was right, - well almost
   the drought is over now
   the brick hard clay soil softened
   moist malleable compliant
   the crack in the wall has closed over
   well nearly - but not quite.

   Still the faintest trace
   from floor to the corner of the ceiling
   a jagged shadow of a hairline fracture
   fine broken eggshell fissure
   visible just
   haunting yet
   even now,
   now that the drought is over.

MISSING
Today I missed you. I missed you yesterday too, but today I missed you more. I’m not sure why. Maybe it was because it was raining. Early this morning the sun was shining but then it clouded over and started to drizzle. The soft misty rain continued for most of the day. It stopped for a short time around mid-day, so I went to sit in the garden under the autumn tree and ate my cheese sandwich. But just as I finished eating it started to rain softly, and softly rain so I went back inside and stared out the window for a while. I listened to my new Nick Cave CD. I played it three times and then I decided to take my dog for a walk. The air outside smelled fresh and the rain on my face mixed with tears of missing you. Some days I miss you more than others – it’s hard to know why that is really. Missing you is a hard thing to quantify. I guess it’s just that some days ache more than others. Later, when I came back from my walk I played Nick Cave again. The phone rang once and for some reason I thought it might be you, but of course it wasn’t.  It was still raining softly and softly raining at tea time, but it didn’t matter because I wasn’t going out anywhere. I decided to skip dinner and sat down and watched the news and the weather report. Apparently it will be raining again tomorrow and the next day and the day after that.
Today I missed you and I will miss you tomorrow and all the days after that and all the days after that.