footsteps

footsteps

on the kitchen floor

the noise of food being prepared

the scraping of knife and butter onto toast

meow of a cat

it's hungry too

demands service

what is a moment?

what is a moment?

see? it's gone already.

wait - there's another.

damn, I've missed it.

moments are things that pass us by

while we are trying to notice them

and do something in them.

moments are the Holy Grail

they will only appear

if we don't look for them

they will only be useful

if we stop searching for them.

This morning

this morning

appeared

as

a miracle

to me

I breathed

awoke from whatever sleep is

and became me again

whatever me is

whatever awake is

whatever morning is

whatever breath is

Morning post

 good morning my morning

good morning my day

good morning my moment

good morning my life

good morning my world

good morning my mind

I hope you produce good thoughts

and feelings today.

I hope we get on

and do good for this life

and others in this new day.

Let's try to work together

for what is nurturing and healthy in this new day.

Heritage

I write this in tribute

to my father

who overcame tragedy

and loss

to live a full rich life

to my grandfathers

who overcame suffering and strife

to live rich lives

though cut short

too short

and to myself

who, outwardly privileged

and stable

have undergone my own painful battles

inner and personal

but move on to the light

and the places of peace and joy

made available to us by Chance.

and to the mothers who made me

and my father and my grandfather.

One broken

all hardworking and hardworked

they kept the fire of life burning

in themselves

and in those they gave birth to,

raised, and loved.

To them all, and to myself

I pay tribute,

and to Fate I give my thanks

to have the privilege of experiencing life.

January

In January many years ago

my son was born.

In the labour ward

when giving birth to him

my wife nearly died.

Iain was delivered in a

brutal, primitive, lightning-speed

emergency operation.

he was rushed away

to an incubator

not breathing

not stirring.

we found out weeks later

that he had an APGAR score

of one out of ten

APGAR, being the measure

of ten signs of life at birth.

So I'm standing in my wife Christine's blood

which covered most of the floor of the room

she unconscious

her fatally low blood pressure indicators

slowly rising again

because of the three litres of plasma

being pumped into her

after a nurse had sprinted out of the room

to get it for her,

my son somewhere else,

to all intents and purpose

dead

as far as my eyes could judge

then he is returned in an incubator,

alive

and my wife comes out of her slumber

alive

then I'm standing there

holding him

alive and not blue

and it's January

and it is always January in my heart

because despite the cold, 

the dark, 

the wind, 

the rain

this is the month when the miracle of life

presented itself

and imprinted its message

through every cell in my body

and the angels in that room

who saved my wife and son

that day

remain forever in my heart

January folk

who brought warmth and light

into the deepest darkness

in two souls

who almost slipped from my failing existence.

Science poem (from a NS article)

 ocean people

no matter where they live

find hope

the wild sea

extracted and exploited;

the high seas

brought low

mental well-being

in the new economy

a digital revolution

a powerful indictment

measure, rank, process

shifts in moral opinion

automated social inequality

judgements that really matter

using cold logic

we lose, we gain

through unintended consequences

welcome to the human plight.