I want to create and open my heart

your bed brings me comfort and space

distracted slightly with the purrs of love kneading into my arm

or sitting on my work..

missing you while you work..

waiting patiently for that perfect smile

your laughter,

and for those eyes to meet mine..

moving towards the ground reaching forward.

I feel a shift.

do I laugh or do I cry..

it does not matter,

because I feel the pressure leave..

energy found from within

I crave movement, i need to stretch my limbs, let go of time past..

move into the air and look to the sky for answers

I see it in the clouds across whip lashed faces and torn memories.

drawings that are not politically correct.. but I feel restless ..

i am tired of being safe

why not let some anger out on to paper

anger that i just don’t understand..

i want to draw but feel confused about the things I want to draw ..

I feel a strange

veil of calm wrap around my body

telling me that I did not belong

where I had once stood.                I feel a separation-

internally slipping between reality

and what I remember.

The sense of time is built into

thick walls of mud, memories fragmented and lost in the dried cracks

days past the Earth’s erosion

leaving behind tears dried by the sun and wrapped around the rings of trees

protected by rough bark that bites the winds from west and from east.

images drawn on paper torn from broken forests

notebooks tossed into piles unwritten and unread..

plastic and waste left and forgotten on street corners

forgetting the touch of innocence

the purity of the colour green

the integrity of the soil beneath our toes

the honour we owe to which we walk

the honesty we owe to the whispers that reach our skies

unworldly whispers that boom over natures soft duality of  morality and virtue..

under man made bridges waters weep through valleys

above trees birds suffocate for unpolluted air

I savour the life that has created this piece of paper,

knowing that my drawings are among days past

to be left among the worlds excess..

there are heartbeats that beat louder than yours

listen for them

my tongue disconnected from the sand and crawling fields of marijuana, opium and grapes

pulsating green against dull beige

irrigation systems controlled with garbage clogged with mud

I remember- but memories can fail ..

suppertime was the sound of a rocket detonating off the side of the mountain that sheltered my plate.

my palate masked in the grit, nose black and thick

convoys coming – convoys going -patrols by day – patrols by night

sentry shifts and hot days standing on the road

casualties and comms lock down

traverse left – traverse right

OP1 OP2 OP3 OP4, radio check over.

no longer can I imagine the heat and a thousand stars

the resonating clarity of the early morning call to prayer..