Photo of artwork

noise of the stars


history.                      Troubled.


Soak in



Imagine a soft breeze of piano. standing alone in a field. Dew from the long grass patterning your legs. A dark sky splattered with light. Try and find the edges. Stretch. close your eyes. Stretch again. And again. The weight presses in. Fall back. the dew soaks in. She finds your hand. Reopen. the stars have shifted. Try and find the edges. You smile, this time. you turn to kiss her. She was never there. She is in you now. eight words leave your lips. 8 words repeat.

Eight words I have forgotten during the following 54 months. A space of time filled with many experiences where I wasn’t present, wasn’t engaged, just was there, with my heart belonging elsewhere. There were also times of almost normality, of joy, of living again. During these moments rose the conflict of betrayal to memories of children, no one, but my wife and I will ever know. And then there is now, the attempts to hold true to the promises made, to live a life that honours those memories, the love I opened up and to. And this time she is there and I kiss her.

Posted: 15 May 2019