Manchild
‘Born in separation,
hapless, at evening -
not a dawn
eyes opening only
on the light
leaving dim your home.
as land and sea
drew both away
and all was settling
in sleep as void,
dumb as old offal,
lying limp on mud.
Poor manchild,
untimely born,
unhappy, your hour,
under doomed
and rising star’
It's your poetry that always gets me, Ross. The distillation of your deepest self in just a few well chosen words.
May your star rise soonest!
And mine, also.
I intend now to rediscover my earliest joy, that which got me through the turmoil of my own "star crossed" beginnings, but which I was forced by circumstances to leave behind more than a decade ago.
I doubt I'll be writing for a while. But I will be painting... casting colour. That's my joy. That's my healing.
May you discover, or rediscover, or refine your own. With all my love. 🪷🙏💚