Love is waiting to come through you

This is a new piece, literally just finished it so it’s a bit wobbly like jelly but I think it’s set. I started the first notes on it about a month back – I had returned from a week-long retreat where I had been writing and meditating every day, Buddhist meditation including metta bhavana practise, which is the deliberate cultivation of compassion. All through the retreat I had experienced extreme pain across my upper back and arms when meditating, a very blocky feeling, and I knew it was all part of feeling a little shut down in my heart. Then on the last day our meditation leader started off a session by saying ‘remember, love is waiting to come through you’ and I immediately felt a bellow of love roar through me from back to front like a fire hose, opening up my chest until I cried helplessly. It left a kind of exit wound so that for days after coming home I was continually finding myself overcome with compassion, in the most unlikely (and inconvenient) places – in this case, late night shopping at Asda.

Love is waiting to come through you

brutal   a wolf wind at the automatic doors it will

shove you   a trolley through their parting and in

to the realm of nested baskets   buckets brimming

bright bouquets destined for vases or lampposts

stacks of flapjacks   black gossip pagodas where

turbine girls stride on the newsprint seas   arms

bent back white vanes semaphoring they too

are on special offer but to who?   love is waiting

to jackknife your sternum and make you see

the young man  twitching without rhythm or

symmetry  agonizing over Icebergs,  Romaines

the old man  palming his wife like a fresh egg

misbuttoned tweed hunched high in sympathy

for her lifelong rocking  cross a scoliotic spine

the biker   trachea shockingly stoppered white

plastic porthole in his windburned wattle   love

is waiting to escape from you   clawing a way

out of the shattered mineshaft   joining them

under inert gases  in closed cup mushroom faces

and the struggle with choices   crunchy or plain

shivering in the aisles of flayed shrink-wrapped

muscles   seeking comfort in the varnished apples

and beyond  the unmanned tills are singing please

please take please take please take your change

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s