Be silent, be still, pause, rest and heal….then rise like the Phoenix with fire beneath those toes, and strength in those eyes, tip toe if you must, whisper if needs be but shine, baby, shine like the brightest star in the dark skies for you were born to sparkle…
Old man up my road owns a white Siberian husky. He pounds along the path chasing cats, pulling old man here, there everywhere. His bark is fierce splits atoms demands attention.
Old man up the road pauses at our gate, for Husky blue eyes searches for his Princess blue eyes and he finds her.
Husky stands tall with his front paws perched atop the Black iron gate. Head bowed. He does not bark, jump, skip or dance with excitement. He patiently waits.
Small girl squeels with delight ‘our friend, mummy’ she looks to me for permission.
Permission granted.
Small girl walks steadily to the gate leaving behind her fears and anxiety. Husky holds his position. Pausing a foot away she reaches out small tender fingers…
Husky smells, a small dance in his back paws as her fingers delve deep into his fur they rub heads for a split second then husky is calm blue eyes searching blue eyes, she smiles.
Old man tells me he ain’t never seen husky like this with no one… She must be special he says.
My dearest angel,
sleep,
the hour is late
and the journey long,
let slumber embrace you.
I will stand guard and
warm you with my arms,
steady you with my body
hold you with my hands. . .
and if for a moment a
bad dream dares to rise
I will banish it
into ethereal skies.
Sleep now my Angel
the hour is late
the journey long.
Like hunter gatherer leaving
behind the confines of
hibernation she steps
hesitantly into the light
rummaging to quell the
quench of thirst and storm
of hunger that rages within.
At dawns awakening
the world screeched
upon the etched carvings
of a spiteful tongue,
hates essence
suffocating my light.
Drowning in yester-
years ocean of
delinquent blood.
The hours owned
by the devil, wiped
clean by the angels
beating wings.
The merry go round
of existence. Dawn
becomes day, day
becomes noon,
noon leaves too soon.
After drowning in
evening’s promise,
night begs for
resistance.
Tired eyes and stinging
mind, I walk the halls
to you, no calls for mum,
no echo of media.
I pause about your feet,
and take in life’s splendour.
A gift . . . the soft hum
of sleep already arrived,
the whisper of a moment’s
promise. I pause now with
freedoms time upon my hands,
and stare into the heart
of twilight skies. your
gentle sleep, a melody so
sweet.