Unwell

When I feel unwell
the raw pollen of germs flooding my body
God shines through a crack in the universe
Suddenly something of His Nature is known

Unable to hold the world upright
an outer shell of vulnerability
a slight shaking in the hands
knowing the pointless necessity of martyrdom

A poor beast's dreams interfere the thinking
Notes on the nature of reality made shorthand
never to be understood again

Then memories of Ireland   the crossing to Rathlin
the feeling of tossed sickness   and the fresh salt spray
making the face worth living in        open vaults of air
fear in the water and joy in the light

Running the gauntlet of feeling unwell
always makes me wish I was with you

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Nine Poems

The Island The island is sterile trying to wake itself with the sound of song The island is in turmoil all its songs confused scratching, layered, barbarous The island is beautiful where it is not suffocated by encroaching blankets of trash The island is kind the warmth of hands exchanged the heartfelt sharing of sufferings The island is maybe worth saving An Abandoned Poem A bad in a squall of rain The body feeling heavy again As the world wheels lost in madness again Trapped inside an illogical brain The face of the sky is colourless, cold Like a diamond remembered somewhere in the soul But revealed to no light, feeling forgotten, old Old as the horse left to die on its own A Satire The buxom girl in the red dress is tired of pandering socialites. She would be by Euston station, propositioned by crude drunkards, the blare of the lights and stream of traffic oozing its way through the metropolis like a coarse projection of vomit. Where are the grimy backrooms, the low-lit lights jutte...
Read more