Teaching not preaching or leading
Words that said this was me
I can tell you how light is in everyday
Sun shining through a crack in curtains
The lightgiver taught me that
You don’t need baking sun
To warm a scared heart
You don’t need much of anything
To make a new or brighter start
Only one thing is necessary
A willingness for light to flood
As it washes away the dark
Ailsa
©️AilsaCawleyPoetry2020
Spillwords.com presents: The Son That Never Was, poetry by Ailsa Cawley who writes about the world around her and lives on the Isle of Skye with her family.
Source: The Son That Never Was
In lockdown land
In this new land our movements slow
Everything goes
At a pace akin to another time
When maybe worlds were less frantic
And the quick jive of life
Turned into the back two, forward one
That no-one knows anymore
Or we didn’t.
A few weeks in when we’re horror numb
And our new ways are beginning
We learn to keep our distance don’t touch
But we speak to people we’d not know
If it weren’t for this damn virus
That reaps the old without mercy
And culls them in it’s nasty grasp
Still I know it’s made so many say
That life is to be lived in a way souls can ease
The lungs of the dead are filled with water
They drowned so we can breathe
But if I hear it described much more as a war
The words get thee to hell you fools
May not be the only words I scream
I know that life has changed for us all
I’ve changed and so have you
So let’s look forward to brighter days
©️AilsaCawley2020
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
Just some thoughts from Kat on 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…
View original post 219 more words
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
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
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
She sat there drinking them in. Watching, smiling, nodding, speaking but deliberately not leading.It was a defence mechanism. Taken back to days long ago when her views, dreams and stories were considered stupid or childish.
First she learned to be quieter, and for a while she thought occasionally she was safe, until the words she cast out were spat back on a haze of alcohol and abuse. The stories and verses were burned or binned, because that’s what happens to trash. See?
Foolishly, when she’d thought he believed in her, she gave him a story to read. Since then, daily she’d become a little quieter, a little less herself. One day she realised she wasn’t sure who she was anymore.
That was the day she walked away. She left with less than she arrived with in belongings. Inside, she left with strength, determination to do what she had to, wanted to. Most of all she left with stillness. No longer a racing mind. No longer a terror of the key in the door. No more threats or delivery of nasty surprises to keep her “on her toes”. He awoke her strength hidden deeply away. He unwittingly gave her stillness. He kept everything they had so she could keep her stillness.
©️AilsaCawleyPoetry2020
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
