I don’t know how long I’ve been writing poetry for – I’m not very open about it and I don’t really know why. But I thought I’d take a “shot in the dark” and share a recent poem with you. I wanted to write a poem which reflected aspects of my faith and so I wrote this poem as a reminder to myself to not forget who I am, my principles and my dreams- that is to have faith in myself, to have faith in my sprit. I’m still working on a title, but for now I’ve just called it:
There is a story that only I can tell,
For I am the author – so listen well.
It is almost time for me to depart,
So my son let me tell you my tale right from the start.
When I was young I did not really know,
Who I was, but hoped that it would show.
I tried to be what was expected of me,
I moulded myself to what I thought I ought to be.
I am my own master , yet I was ruled.
But my child freedom beats through me – do not be fooled !
There was a wind which each day howled to me
that I was the champion of my own destiny.
The years rolled on but still I had hope,
that one day my wildest desires and I would elope.
Others laughed and told me such was life,
to not be a dreamer and continue this strife.
My leathered body now aged as you see –
a victim to time , she has been a temptress to me.
It takes many a year to be accustomed to change
and so the silence of old age revealed to be strange.
But it is here that my journey begins,
where my soul and I do become friends.
In the quiet I realised –
that this friend has always been by my side.
And who is this, my son I hear you say,
this companion I speak of whom I met in old age ?
Alas he was with me all along,
He was the pulsing beat to the melody of my song.
He was the magic that blinded me when I was young,
He was the poet who’s dreams to me were sung.
He was the niggling that ached in middle age.
And now my son, he is my spirit – free from its cage.