weary

through a glass darkly

Originally uploaded by beccaplusmolly

it’s only wednesday but i feel so weary. some of it a good, achiveved happy things weary, some of it more a no please no more of this kind of weary.

pete remains a child who doesn’t sleep well in the night. he’s in with me once i go to bed and he usually wakes between 4 & 6 x a night. luckily for all of us he has a winning charachter so the days go by in a sleep deprived but mostly happy way.

jacob is growing up fast, 3 in february. his speech & language are still blurry after a long time with undiagnosed glue ear but there’s been a lot of progress since his grommet operation in september. he also loves playcentre and wants to be there every day.

molly is a lean streak these days. taller & taller. lots of friends & enjoyment at school and with family. she is loving her bicycle and rides well without assistance. gymnastics & art continue to give her pleasure also.

james and i have been saddened this week with some deaths: a friend’s brother died today after a long battle with HIV, a colleague died last thursday after many years of living with cancer and another friend’s father died also on thursday but in australia, also from cancer. all three men have had long illnesses through which they were loved & supported by their families. i’m glad they could leave the pain & illness and now we will care for those left behind.

ka kite ano

estuary

high and dry

Originally uploaded by beccaplusmolly

if we slip so easiily
in & out of feeling that
fucking midweek is nothing
& tears on a Friday are
the same as standing
in the rain
then i suspect neither
of us are present in this

your body slides
mechanically in & out
of mine but your mind
is elsewhere.
we’re wading in this estuary
waiting for a tidal change.

Spiral woman

Originally uploaded by beccaplusmolly

suspended in space
& time
coiled in on herself,
wrapped in emotion -
unable to perceive her left
from her right
up from down

spinning
&
static

vision blurred
legs extended
arms enfolded

she recedes from you
is traced by a point
runs around
& around

call softly:
hold out out for gentle words
softly spoken,
allow yourself to travel
lightly over old bones
barefooted
on broken stones.

friend

friend

Originally uploaded by beccaplusmolly

Over & over
I want to tell you
about a length of wool
wrapped around your body
(of this desire we cannot speak)

Scenery flashes by in the train
whilst we are silent
(pass by, pass by, pass by)

Our eyes are caught
against the edges
I am afraid to move
(a difficult transition is shifting our borders).

attente / waiting

waiting

Originally uploaded by beccaplusmolly

(I am waiting for an arrival, a return, a promised sign. This can be futile, or immensley pathetic…Everything is solemn. I have no sense of proportions)

As I wait for you to arrive
pacing the floorboards
a telephone rings
& I’m startled

Pacing the flooboards
I chain smoke
& I’m startled
when someone starts to sing

I chain smoke
inhaling deeply & quickly
when someone starts to sing
I remember the day I met you

Inhaling deeply & quickly
I begin to feel dizzy
I remember the day I met you
as I wait for you to arrive.

Struck by you

At a party: sober,

stone cold

& alone,

I’m struck

by

you – elfin figure of curls

& deep eyes. Enticing grin

that – & I’m struck secondly

by the grace & calm sense

of space, effortlessly maintained

whilst throwing out a welcome

invitation to dance.

 

I long for the precision

of a single word to pin a name on the jolt

in my veins as I inhale

& this body say Hel-lo

to yours

& I’m struck again.

Letter to Grandma

This afternoon I’m smoking
a rollie, sitting
at my desk.

Later
I’ll catch the bus
to Rachel’s flat
& chat over cups of tea.

Catching up
on missed days;
holidays: camping at Waitaia,
living it up at Kawau.

Natter, natter
we’re good, so good
at that. The sky is overcast.

You & Aunty Meg
best of friends
talking it over
in kichens, on
telephones, via letters so
long distance is no distance
at all.

Children are grown,
fine figures with children
of their own. Grandchildren
with children. A family
to make you proud, extending
from Auckland over
seas & home again.

Desperate codes

You force yourself upon me:

This is an illness

Not something I can control

You are way past my boundaries

with lies, irregularities, selfishness.

I have no sympathy,

do not believe your words,

your promises.

I cannot go on.


There is a sickness

it eats your insides

& all the molecules move.

Here, once more,

we did this fifteen years before.

Our footprints

so fresh to these eyes

(I must have closed them)

I hoped for a cool change

a wind to blow this dust.

Instead,

our shoes wait

at the step

correct size,

still warm.

You march me down

& my muscles are tight knots

of frustration.