The son that never was

I was the son they wanted you see

Someone who would be free

Three children I’m the oldest

I know people say I’m pushy

But it was well known

That girls were just a second class

At least one boy should be born

I understood from childhood

That I needed to toughen up

Followed me father to market

Till he gave me a sheep of my own

Even got me in the papers it did cos

The bugger followed me to school

So I took it in and they weren’t amused

But dad roared laughing saying that

Was exactly what he’d expect a boy to do

Knew then I had to take charge of all

Because what else could I do?

Mary had a little lamb became contrary

I knew just what had to be done

I became the son you never had

And the daughter that never was.

©️AilsaCawleyPoetry2020

On Resiliance….

Just some thoughts from Kat on Zany Mountain

View from Zany Mountain

It’s become a bit of joke, me messing around about fancying army guys-caveat- I’m one for joking and messing. It’s hardly going to change now at this hour of my life, is it.

Actually if you do one thing-check out the army guys-Jason Fox and Ollie Ollerton-because amazingly-they are tough but have worked the line and describe a process that is both honest and healing.

Yet, here on Zany Moutanin the sunshine, laughs and craic-prevails. Until the shadow darkens on the side of  the mountain and it  doesn’t prevail any more. I’m struck by the images of people working on the frontline and I can’t bear to look. An ER doctor in New York commits suicide as does a paramedic. My heart stops for them.

I can’t bear to look at them twice- or even think of them. I worked the frontline for several years in a totally different capacity-homeless…

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Old wounds healed

Old wounds healed

His words were in the air knives

With blunted blades

You need to leave then go but I’m going to say

To all who’ll hear it was down to you

And a man who I’d rather blame

I went back to get the bare essentials

Two bin bags filled with things

He’d done to plants and flowers

What he tried to do to me and failed

Cut them off and killed connections

Dead things lay on the floor that day

Almost the end of summer and it felt

Like the first of Spring

I was terrified as my heart skipped and jumped

Knowing I no longer needed to sing a song

To make me escape from his clutches

He warned me in direst terms

Of what he’d do, they’d do

And finally I’d done what the song said

I’d broken free

I walked down the lane on butterfly wings

Heart dancing and the sun came out

Gave me her blessing

As she warmed my heart and gave hope

Telling me to keep walking towards tomorrow

Ailsa

©️AilsaCawleyPoetry2020

Rising

She is rising from the earth to sing

Her age old story on drums

That beat in heart rhythm

And carry on the wind crying

For help and guidance

So she can gather strength

As she walks through fire

Her clay body molding to new shape

Life pieced apart and rebuilt stronger.

He is behind her watchful as she dances

And sings incantations to evoke elders

The forgotten ones, remembering how

To bring them forward he is waiting

For her to signal the way ahead

The time to move on

She whirls lights from the fire catching

Skirts that dance as though alight

Her trance from now to wherever

Is watched with bated breath

She will dance faster, slower, faster

Not stopping until the answer is there

Only then will exhaustion take her

Her words before sleep to be passed

Among the gathering folk

Whispers from person to person

Man to woman, child to adult

She said the goddess spoke to her

Our mission is to carry on before the fire

Listening to the earth and saving her

The message has never changed

We carry on dancing and drumming

The earth is passing the message herself

We must listen for her roar could deafen

Even those who want to silence her.

Ailsa

©️AilsaCawleyPoetry2020

Plated

Stepping forth in her armour she felt invincible

Her resolve not to be broken

The looks on their faces were shocked

Astonished at her audacity

That she’d not done what was expected

Her face cleared of the usual paint

Sleek hair left to be wild and exuberant

Suddenly in her nakedness she felt it

Powerful, in control

Their shock at her being as she wanted

Scared them

No heels, paint, sleek dress just her

Armour plated by being naked

She stared them down when they demanded

Smile pretty lady it’s not the end of the world

Yeah? She replied it is.

Ailsa

©️AilsaCawleyPoetry2020

High

The persona that you projected

I am up here on high and bear your presence

I will grit my teeth to see gratitude

Spewing out of you and I remain high

Lofty, above you, and someone to aspire to

Accepting all adulation with a wave

Expect you to fall at my feet and you will.

Your world depends upon who sees you as special

Who will do anything to please you

Fawn over you and into line

Like little tin soldiers you watch from on high.

Apparently I dissented in the ranks

Fell out before I was told to go

Oh I can see all the cracks, chinks in armour

I’d rather be here on the outside

Than there on your fake high

Wondering how far it’s going to be

On the way down to the bottom.

Ailsa

©️AilsaCawleyPoetry2020

The world he’s locked in

His stories are those of a person persuaded

That life has passed him by

People crushing his spirit and grinding

Their heels into his head

Because he isn’t what was expected.

So he chooses the path of least resistance

Pressing a button that destroys his world

Because he’s afraid of losing happiness

Fighting it from happening is easier

Than the disappointment as it walks away.

He’s tired of hiding behind the shell of pretence

That he’s so carefully constructed

To show the world the clown who loses

But it’s there flickering , the light

That’s now refusing to be extinguished

Now he knows some people believe in him.

Ailsa

©️AilsaCawleyPoetry2020