I pressed my heart to the ground
Then my palms
Then my ears
And lay listening to the earth
Feeling a shared rhythm
It wasn’t a rapturous beat
But a slow swaying pulse
I was enchanted in that moment
For a brief eternity
Feeling close
Feeling connected
And the world was whispering words of love
While holding my hand
But the sun grew jealous
So tore us apart
With ferocious tears
And hot spiteful breath.
The last thing the earth felt
Was my palms turning to fists
Pushing myself away.
Nature holds our hand
we wear daisy chains
and lay on green blades
getting tickled
but the dandelions die
and fade without fanfare
hoping to return
all the while
nature holds our hand.
The photo wasn’t spoiled by my thumb
it was immaculate
because you were there
standing
your back to the sky
and the wind brushed your face
as a smile lit your eyes
and clouds retreated
in awe of your heart.
we are all mauled lions
hunting to regain our pride
questioning whether we can be heard
because often none roar back
when we are loudest in our pain
we only hear the drum of shame on the wind
and feel the stinging reek of guilt
from those we ran with in the good times
fearless
when the sky was light blue, coral and ochre
but when the darkness descends
in jet, midnight and fog
they are scared to acknowledge us
scared they will be tainted
scared their roars won’t be answered
yet to realise
we are all mauled lions.
Paul Writes Poems 