A New Years Eve some years ago. The TV in one corner, PC in the other, separated from my lover, I oscillate between the two sources of information. My little ones were children who were suffering brain sten glioma… one of whom had just left and joined the angels.
(“My little ones” as I refer to them, were American children who were being treated at Duke Children’s Hospital & Health Center in North Carolina. Most were suffering from inoperable brain tumors.)
Lest I forget…
The leaves are finally gone
And where green or brown once shone
Are now the random blocks of blue
Glimpses of every shape and hue
Between the bare and haggard wood
That even centuries has stood
In some untimely fashion
She slides her arm around his waist.
A simple unplanned loving motion
Born of such innocent devotion.
Each moment – each infinitesimal moment
Is filled with unbelievable heartache
In shattered homes
All around the world.
I click on my Internet link
how my ‘little ones’ are doing.
Whatever the mood of my luxurious and
Unfairly bounteous life,
Can be guaranteed
To pierce the armour of my brain
And switch on a pain in my heart.
My heartache is nothing compared
To what my fellow humans
Are suffering in their homes;
In waiting rooms,
Or watching their children endure
From the dreaded letter ‘C’
Don’t they know
It is really just another day?
Crowded squares burst with expectation.
Couples await the hour side by side, hand in hand,
Stomachs tingling in anticipation
Of the midnight kiss their lips await.
He wears a crazy mad-hatter’s concoction.
And she a knitted woolen hat that
Squirts her curly hair around…
Garb to welcome in a notion
The skies are lit by demented pyrotechnics.
Explosions blast the ears and rock …
I am moved to tears just watching kisses in Times Square
As all hands are set perpendicular on the clock
And the camera catches infinitesimal moments
That cannot ever be relived in our puny reality
Moments constantly dispatched
Into the depths of my mind
Where all their colours are faded and only the
Light of Hope beams through the tiny gaps
That pain and suffering have gauged.
Despite my rushing here and there
In search of something never found –
By all the frippery and flotsam
My material desire acquires –
I feel the gentle touch of her lips
And savouring the moment clear
Feel my lips get torn from hers
As the moment is over.
© Griffonner 2023