It is so long since we made love,
since the stars shone in your eyes
and since I held your loving body in my arms.
Our love has died. Its cold ashes
colder than the space between the stars.
(That used to shine in your eyes).
And last night I gazed at him, and he was not you.
He kissed me, and he was not you.
I held him in my arms, and he was not you.
And deep inside me, he came,
but he was not you.
26th April 2001
"Come round" you said.
"It's a long journey,
you'll be tired".
So I did, and we ate Chinese
and you told me things
but didn't ask me any questions.
And we were further apart this evening,
eating Chinese,
than we had been last night,
when your ghost was in my bed,
haunting me when I took him in my arms.
26th April 2001
Do you remember that feeling of being in love?
Swimming in rivers of laughter,
talking in the golden sunshine,
and playing in the landscapes of the heart?
Do you remember how the whole world smiled at us
and laughed at our laughter?
And all things were possible,
everything was easy,
and even the dull grey things were fun?
Do you remember how we kissed?
Our souls dancing across the universe?
All of that was then, and this is now.
And the reason I remember,
is that I can hear the freedom and laughter
in your voice again.
And it is hard to wish you joy in your new love.
25th August 2001
I feel my pain
But is it my pain?
Human experience is pain.
All living things feel pain.
And love.
And joy.
But pain isolates; separates; divides.
If I feel pain, is it mine?
My very own private pain?
Or is it an expression of all our pain?
Am I the drummer, or the rhythm or the drum?
When the wind finds screeching pipes,
is it the wind that howls?
Is it the water that makes the sound
or the rocks that tumble in it?
So is the pain mine;
or am I the observer and the witness?
Am I one of the ways that the universe can feel its pain?
25th December 2001
Imagine that you love someone
with your heart,
and your body,
and your soul.
Imagine that your greatest fear is being without them.
Imagine that they tell you that they do not love you any more.
And then:
Imagine that they tell you that their decision was a mistake,
it was hasty,
that they did not realise the truth of the matter.
But that too much has changed since it was taken
for either of you to go back again.
18th August 2002
In my anger, I wanted you to die,
but revenge tastes sweeter yearly, watching you.
You suffer now, no matter how you try.
In my anger I wanted you to die.
Your looks have crumbled, your health has gone, you cry
in pain, (as I did the first time I met you).
In my anger, I wanted you to die,
but revenge tastes sweeter yearly, watching you.
28th September 2002
"Don't go breaking my heart!"
"I couldn't if I tried!"
You felt the same as Kiki Dee.
You didn't know you lied.
But part way through from then to now
we broke each others' hearts.
And I still turn off the radio
when it's on the oldie charts.
15th November 2002
You think I am loud and affected and brash
if I moan with delight
eating glorious food.
You think I'm aggressive, assertive, a bitch
if I calmly point out
when service is bad.
Your humour is based on ironical wit
but I'd roll around laughing
for joy and for fun.
You say "Oh for god's sake, it's cold and it's wet"
and want me to stop
when I dance in the rain.
1st December 2002
All poems copyright © Beth Cargill, 2002 and 2003. All rights reserved.
If you wish to contact the author please email: [email protected]