Death is a mercy, sometimes.

I wrote this after watching a programme which was about a family but PTSD features heavily and this is what came out!

He was a speaker with animals

before the destruction

Feeding them, knowing their ways

Before the fodder was him.

Sent underground to set traps

For an unwitting enemy

A generals mind in foot soldiers body

The damning combination.

A world destroyed a mind fragmented

By bangs, shells, sounds, screams

Some are his own

When he wakes from the sleep

That he tries never to have

Nightmares worse than any day can conjure

He doesn’t speak of what happened

The words are not yet invented

Distractions, diversions, plans

All to keep his mind from being idle

So the torture stays away

He is there but not there

A spectre in his own life

This living breathing moving ghost

Who everyone knows

Yet nobody understands he’s locked in

Always in the terror of then

The time he cannot speak of

He is voiceless and it’s all there

Waiting to explode

At the back of his mind is a thought

Humming louder daily

Death is a mercy, sometimes.

Ailsa
©️AilsaCawleyPoetry2019

Eruption

It’s bubbles are hot and the lava like acid burns

My throat tight from tasting anger

Twisting and turning as turbine

You spout nothing but searing air

To then forget goldfish-ly as the wind changes.

Your world has no room for anything of logic

It contains your grand vision

You the star of your own show

Roses falling at your feet in the hurrah

That you decided you deserved

And still you wait for it…

Ailsa

©️AilsaCawleyPoetry 2019

Fireside secrets

Listen girl keep looking you’d say

Watch that fire flicker with dreams

See pictures of life cross it

And swallow the future whole.

Tell yourself you can see and you will

Shadows of orange flame become futures

Worlds of opportunity open to you

If you only believe they are.

I’m not talking magic or hocus pocus

My words are meant to convey

The simple life you can make

If you should need to escape.

The rat runs here no more comfort

Than the days when I was small

Well, in some ways it is but really

I’m only saying why have the same

When you could have it all?

Written about conversations with my nana as a child

Ailsa

©️AilsaCawleyPoetry 2019

Broken man

A broken man skeletal but proud

Walks in daring anyone

To mention his weight loss

Haunted face deathly gaunt

Knowing each day brings him closer

To the end.

He knows what is happening

Will tell you after a drink

Wants no sympathy, fact dealing

So there’s not speculation

As he hears them discuss him

Talk about the ‘condition ‘

Coming to take the life he knew

Your words are not accurate

This thing filled him with stoicism

While eating away who he was

Wanting to tell them while asbestos eats

He can still hear every single beat.

Written about the close friend of my dad who was a fighter and battled asbestosis, a very brave man even as he was being broken down.

Ailsa

©️AilsaCawleyPoetry 2019

Cailleach

There she stood in her wrinkled peach skin

Wizened by years and knowing

That her full self would not be seen

By the people who chose fear

Of age and cunning.

She smiled at the thought of time

Playing pranks on those beautiful ones

With souls darker than any shade

That could be viewed on the bleakest

Of starless nights .

The pulling of the enforced smiles

Bestowed on those who berated her daily

Yet said nothing except sweet hellos

For fear of the old woman’s curse

Of spending eternity with her.

If they knew she thinks I’ve harmed none

From a girl to cailleach

Yet still they fear my separateness

Like it’s catching or enchanted

Or they may learn something.

If I were not a woman she tuts

A hermit I’d be and no fear would follow

But a woman who wants the same…

One day we shall have it. A world of equals

Of nothing different

Of that I can hope.

Ailsa

©️AilsaCawleyPoetry 2019

Cutting deep

Hailing down upon me the words cut

Deeper than any knife and I’d rather

The blows you threatened happen

Bruises I can heal and then they’re gone

Words are far sharper weapons

Cutting deep

You don the superior spitting face

Hurling untruths that matter not if I defend

Myself or agree, your mind made up.

As I trip backwards on the stairs

Land a few feet down with your face

Cutting deep

And you speak in hushed tones of my

Misdeeds that I half wish I’d done

To say I lead a life off the leash

An invisible chain that makes me start

If a single wrong word is uttered you’ll

Cut deep

So long you did that to me

Telling everyone that could hear

What a terrible person I was to you

How badly you were done to

And I see you now and think I escaped

I escaped

No more cutting deep

That wound is there running deep

Almost healed to surface scar tissue

No more cutting deep a helpless person

A woman who loved you once

Even the monster who wounded

You cannot love have to control every little

Bit of someone else but I know you’re not

Going to cut me ever again

Never again would you be trusted not to

Try and cut me deep

After sweet words and tearful apologies

Your method is always cutting deep.

Ailsa

©️AilsaCawleyPoetry 2018

Destruction of the threat

Words dancing like squirrels feet

Scampering through my head

They go faster faster to a frantic beat

Do they lessen the sense of dread?

The words are my words

Thoughts are my thoughts

No longer like broken swords

Never again to be dulled with phrases

Such as maybe, could or ought.

You’ve misunderstood me long enough

I’ll fight until the death

The world where you threatened tough

Has ended and you misread my intent

Let me be very clear once friend

I’ve learned how to fight by stealth

This is not a quiet warning war of words

You have never seen me angry

It’s there for the times I need use it

I have gored like an angry bull

Through bigger not stopping at blood

Carrying on to destruction and only

The leftover strands of something once

Described as human

Do not keep pushing, poking, prodding

I may be a human of faith

Untethered I can become the savage animal

Who would heed your call for mercy?

Ailsa

©️AilsaCawleyPoetry 2018