Advice

from the writer, Michele Roberts after a reading in Beverley, 18/10/03

Cherish the leaden memories;

The hard, heavy regrets

That you say lay like

A seam across your soul.

Do not hack away

With cruel, vengeful force.

Rather, be kind

And take care of them.

For they have been there

For a reason

And have protected you

For a long, long time.

Courage

 Hull, 09/09/03

Courage is to get out of bed

To rise to the day

When everything wants to back down

And stay rooted under the duvet.

Courage is to boil the kettle

To toast another day

When it’s no different from any other

And looks likely to stay that way.

Courage is to put on clothes

And dress for the day

When there’s no one to look good for

When there’s no one coming out to play.

Courage is to open the door

And walk into the day

When there’s nothing ahead to fill it

Just the hope of something different,

Something good, something funny,

Something worth something

Happening, today.

Kindness

after an adult education creative writing class, Beverley, 09/09/03

A slight smile,

A vague twist of the lips,

A mumbled “hello”

And a quick dash to the back room.

You trembled there in the corner.

You looked visibly sick.

You stuttered and you stammered,

You laughed for no reason,

And then slumped down in your seat.

And they looked at you

And no one laughed,

No one sneered,

No one pitied you.

They just smiled.

Said they were glad to have you on board.

Said they remembered how it felt

The first time they came through the door.

Said, without saying a word,

That you were OK.

And then you smiled, shyly,

And then giggled,

Then giggled some more.

And then you thanked them

And stopped looking down at the floor.

Approaching Spring

Spring Bank, Hull, 2002

Take care not to step out too soon

And unpeel the tired overspill

Of long, locked up days.

Incubated skin grows way too thin

And the prickle of sudden heat

Can cripple and burn.

Wrap up well and walk steadily.

Rise with relish and ease

And stretch, slowly, into Spring.

Child-adults

 Longhill Estate, Hull, 08/10/00
Written after watching “Care”, BBC Wales MM

Child-woman, child-man, child-adults,

In suits, in cars, in families.

Children rearing children,

Half-functioning, half-alive.

Hidden memories,

Hidden pain,

Hidden children.

Screams that go so far

And no further.

Rage that swells and fades,

Swells and fades,

Swells and fades.

Fractured thoughts,

Forgotten details.

Sixteen years of sorrow

Bottled up

With nowhere to go.

When will the cracks come?

When will the leaks leak?

When will the tangled tears

Get their release

And flow?

Dressing Prayer

 4 Hengate, Beverley, Sept 1999

I put on my underwear and think of Christ close to my skin.
I put on my trousers and stand free within His grace.
I put on my T-shirt and grow up into a child.
I put on my jumper and feel snug in His embrace.
I put on my socks and think of Father and the Spirit.
I put on my shoes and see two angels either side.
I put on my coat and am safe under His cover.
I walk into the world, hand in hand with my Lover.

Where is me?

Fiunary, Scotland, July 1999

Where is me?

Did I wander off somewhere

And get caught

In a far off world

Where I was never meant

To be?

Where has this

Hard, contorted stranger

Come from?

So serious. So sad.

So not me.

Where can I find me?

Must I go back

And search

Every hidden world

Recasting nets

On endless seas?

Should I confront

The imposter?

Get mad. Get mean.

Force liberty?

Or should I wait?

Rest awhile.

Stop.

Unfold from fretting.

Be.

Prepare the way

For the bruised, confused me

To sniff the safe world

And come home.

Free.