We are one body

If I don’t weep for your children

How can I weep for my own?

My heart is no greater than yours,

It is not more tender, more loving.

If I do not know your pain

How can I cry for myself?

If I do not recognise your love

How can I know my own?

My love is no brighter than yours,

The bird of  my love flies no higher,

The well of my love is no deeper,

The child of my love is not more precious.

Ostara

 My spring ritual, the forking and turning
Of good brown earth; the marveling
At the myriad creatures therein,
Moist membranes, glistening carapaces;

The green blessing of onion spears,
And the generosity of kale
Filling the hungry gap;

The wonder of the mundane miracle
Of life – building cell by cell,
An alchemy of air, rain, soil and light,
The most prosaic transfiguration.

My hands are work-dry
And I ache
But these raw March nights
Are full of stars.

  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Come if you want to dance

If you don’t want to dance
Don’t come to my party
If you don’t want to dance
Then just stay at home

If you just want to chat
Then go and find a tea room
If you just want to eat
There’s a chippy up the road

This one’s for the dancers,
The stampers, the vampers,
The whirlers and the waltzers,
The ones who do the polka –

I want a bit of bee-bop,
Hip hop, a slut drop,
Some stamping and some tapping,
Some bootie being shook –

Come and do a slow dance,
A pole dance, the pogo,
Come and do a step dance,
Flamenco or a jive

You can do a circle dance,
A square dance, a line dance,
Or wiggle like a hippy
In a corner, on your own.

I don’t want spectators,
I want participators,
So if you won’t be dancing
Just stay home.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

She’s angry now

Her body’s never naked

It’s draped in expectation

Her legs scrawl a manifesto

Her breasts write a slogan

Her face may be hidden,

Paralysed or painted;

Her shout must be whispered,

Her friendship must be tainted.

Her weakness is exalted,

Her wisdom is inanity,

Her biology’s a mystery,

Her pleasure is profanity.

Love is an infinite power

Be wary – you will ride
Into the distance.
You will cross galaxies,
You will swim through
Bright coronas,
You will break yourself
On marble, on granite,
On a lock of hair.

Love is an infinite power –
The fine root that finds its way
Through rock, through concrete
Through tarmac; the sweet drop
Of water, that eases through
The invisible gap; the first note
Of the symphony; the last chord.

Love is an infinite power,
The rising, singing lark –
The fox slinking along the hedge –
The hand that grips yours.

Love is an infinite power,
And we are finite,
Bounded in time and space,
And yet we hold within us
An infinity of stars.