23: sunshine. calm. nostalgia. goodbye.

while i sit here
listening
to futile devices
i become the feeling.

that emanates.

on the crest of my room,
self
purge;
the year purge.

wednesday 13th march 2013

-- garden time
-- dad time
-- harvest moon

rising to my 23rd year
with saggy eyes
but excitement for the day.

the first of my 23rd year;
i had already set a full stop.

i was tired.
but excited.

the autumn sunshine
was sparkling the night's dew
shaking it into the melting reveries of the morning,
when human feet
trample the undergrowth of the night
and stir it into defense.

i often imagine it retaliating
against my chilly cold toes
and growing rapidly over my feet,
fixing my time;
stapling me to ground
and stillness.

but i still seek that.

while caressing the mallow leaves,
the furriness,
the largeness of a wild indian plant,
the silver grey of survival

a lady who watches
talked of the chilean
whose economics phd
turned into a permacultural strong hold
in this garden.

strengthened and nimbler in foot
i tore out the shadowy presences of the garden,
and out of myself.

then watched it wash away down the plug hole
as i scratched those unexplainable rashes of the present.
i was not ready.

not yet.

but neither was dad,
he spent half an hour at a wadestown bus stop
observing the surrounds
basking in morning birds and sunshine

before he was thrusted into the rush of a thriving bus stop
of youth with places to go to.
fast.

we headed waterfront wards
armed with lebanese kebabs and baklava
to stave off the hunger of our relationship.

that seriousness that always burbles threateningly
after all these years of me suppressing my child.

but then one question
changed the river;
the water, the curves;
the embankments were suddenly less oppressive
and the wave of emotion that is our family
washed out
flooded the afternoon
with names, dates; feelings.

loss. and reflection.

i lost him at the same bus stop
to my mother, cousin and then to india
where those mountains that i seek embrace him.

protect him.

mustn't let this wave get to me,
embankments need to be retained;
food must be cooked.

explosion.
of people.
blankets.
food.
evening light.

laughs.
restrain.
awkward love.

melted into
overwhelmed.

then loneliness.
but a warm greenish yellow glowing warmth.